Paul Plunket

JCW flyer—1915. Photos by Monte Luke. State Library Victoria, Melbourne.

Preparations continuedfor the Australian premiere of the American musical comedy High Jinks, which was scheduled to open at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Sydney on 6 February 1915 at the conclusion of J.C. Williamson’s New English Musical Comedy Company season of The Girl on the Film and JCW’s Press Agents ensured that the theatre-going public were kept well informed of its upcoming production.

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Music and Drama

“High Jinks,” which is to be staged for the first time in Australia by the J. C. Williamson management on Saturday next, at Her Majesty’s, is the light lyric order of entertainment. It was presented over a year ago in New York by Mr. Arthur Hammerstein, son of Mr. Oscar Hammerstein, of grand opera fame, and it had a run lasting right through the summer. As a rule most of the American theatres close during the summer, and it requires a very bright attraction to withstand the hot season; but Mr. Hugh J. Ward found “High Jinks” equal to the test when he was in New York last year. It was one of the few shows running, and as he remarked, “the only musical one at that.” In fact, he considers it a very amusing entertainment, farcical, and with ingenious complications. While he was at the theatre he met three Sydney men in the foyer, who spoke of the musical play with enthusiasm. The J.C. Williamson management has secured a cast eminently suited to the piece, and one which, it is believed, will compare favourably with the one Mr. Ward saw at the Lyric Theatre, New York. The fun in “High Jinks” is admittedly evolved from an absurd idea, arising out of the discovery by a Dr. Wayne of a perfume, which, upon being inhaled, bring out a man’s social instincts, which, however, have to be more or less restrained, owing to convention. The producer of “High Jinks” Is Mr. Harry Burcher, from the London Gaiety Theatre, with Mr. Ward, who is actively interesting himself in the rehearsals.

Next Saturday will be “Actors’ Day.” Annually the members of the profession in Sydney give a day to the Actors’ Association of Australasia, whose funds go to the benefit of the less fortunate of the craft, and the event is generally anticipated as a very pleasant reunion. The White City will again be the venue of an entertainment, which will last from 1 to 5 p.m. Mr. Fred. Niblo, Miss Josephine Cohan. Miss Ethel Dane, Miss Dorothy Brunton, and a host of others will have charge of the stalls and side-shows; and, as a number of society ladies are also giving their services in looking after the refreshment rooms, there will be no stint of free and loving service in a worthy cause.

All the White City attractions will be open to enhance the success of “the day,” and Mr. T.H. Eslick and his staff are throwing themselves with enthusiasm into the work of preparing for the entertainment.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Saturday, 30 January 1915, p.8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article15564072

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Entrance to The White City (1913)

The mountain railway attraction (1913)

The opening of High Jinks coincided with Actors’ Day at the Sydney amusement park, The White City, based at Rushcutters’ Bay, which had been designed and built by the English civil engineer and architect, T.H. Eslick (who had also been responsible for the design and construction of Melbourne’s Luna Park) and had first opened on 3 December 1913. Amongst the members of the theatrical profession taking part in the festivities for the charity event was American actor (and future film director) Fred Niblo, then in the final year of a 3 year theatrical tour of Australasia with by his wife, Josephine Cohan for J.C. Williamson Ltd., which included seasons of plays by his brother-in-law, George M. Cohan. Others in attendance included leading players, Julius Knight and Irene Browne, comedian, Jack Cannot, pantomime star, Daisy Jerome and JCW Managing Director, Hugh J. Ward. The event also received the patronage of the New South Wales Governor, Sir Gerald Strickland. The New English Musical Comedy Company was represented by the chorus girls, who sold programs and its leading lady, Dorothy Brunton, who sold flowers and was also the subject of an anecdote published in that day’s World’s News.

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What Did the Actress Do?

At Her Majesty’s, Sydney, Miss Dorothy Brunton, who is to play Sylvia Dale this Saturday in “High Jinks,” sings a recruiting song in “The Girl on the Film.” This is Paul Ruben’s number, “Your King and Country Want You.” It is a woman’s appeal to the manhood of the nation to enlist. In the refrain occur the lines:

Oh, we don’t want to lose you,

  But we think you ought to go

 For your King and your country

Both need you so.

  We shall want you and miss you,

      And with all our might and main,

            We shall love you, hug you, kiss you —

 When you come back again!

One night during the week Miss Brunton found two young soldiers waiting at the stage door for her. “May we speak to you, Miss Brunton?” one asked. “Yes,” she replied. “What is it?” “Well,” said the spokesman, “I am going to the front with the next lot of Australians. My friend, Billo, here, has just came back from Rabaul. We heard you sing to-night that you would kiss us when we came back again. Now what are you going to do about it? Billo, here, is back. He’s all right for his kiss. I was wondering if I could get mine in advance!”

World’s News (Sydney), Saturday, 6 February 1915, p.5, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article131503078

 

JCW Prompt Scrapbook 8, Vol. 2, National Library of Australia, Canberra

The premiere of High Jinks proved to be a great success with Sydney audiences, as reported by the theatre critics in the Sunday newspapers and their counterparts in the following Monday’s press. However, just as the German origins of The Girl on the Film had been obfuscated, so, too, were the names of High Jinks’ Hungarian-born librettist, Leo Ditrichstein, American-born (of Danish descent) lyricist/co-librettist, Otto Hauerbach (later known as Harbach) and Bohemian (Czech)-born composer, Rudolf Friml conspicuous by their absence, both from the theatre programme distributed at Her Majesty’s and the subsequent reviews of the production, lest the war-conscious audience be put off from attending by the mere mention of such Germanic-sounding names.

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LAST NIGHT AT SYDNEY’S THEATRES

A GENIAL ENLIVENER

NON-STOP LAUGHTER PLAY

HILARITY AT HER MAJESTY'S

“High Jinks” certainly sums it up. Few plays are fitted by their title like the unusual enlivener that burst upon the big audience at Her Majesty’s last night.

The story is quite equal to the strain of supporting the succession of bright numbers that rattle through the three hours of lively stage traffic. Sometimes there is a suggestion of congestion but the road to gaiety is never impassable. A full thoroughfare, too, is always brisker and brighter than one in which a thin stream of people meander. That is the difference between Melbourne and Sydney streets. In Melbourne the streets are too wide for the traffic; in Sydney you have to hop about to avoid being hit by something.

Last night the rush on the stage of Her Majesty’s kept the audience hopping. At times the music caught their feet with the merry jingle of bright movement—syncopated for the most part—and there was plenty of color to hold the eye.

The color scheme. of “High Jinks” is pitched in a brilliant key. All the dresses are vivid.  So is the story, by the way. This tells of a young doctor who discovers a perfume, the particular virtue of which is to send the sniffer thereof into a transport of joy. He begins to bubble with life and assume a roving eye. Anything that is in sight he is after. Violet Lorraine used to sing in one of the pantomimes:

Why do those things with trousers on

Follow those things with blouses on

Something in the seaside air!

To the seaside air of Beauville, where all the characters in “High Jinks” spend the second and third acts, there is added the perfume, already mentioned. It is most potent as an inducer of the mood irresponsible—or should we say that it produces the indicative mood, indicative of being out for a good time?

How the characters get to the seaside is a story in itself. Dr. Thorne, an American physician practising in Paris, is besought by an inflammable Frenchman to take a safety pin out of his wife's throat. The patient is so grateful for the relief thus granted, that she embraces and kisses the doctor. The Frenchman is so incensed by observing this demonstration that he challenges the doctor to a duel. As an alternative he asks to be presented to Mrs. Thorne so that he might kiss her. To avoid this insult to his wife—also the Frenchman is fascinating and likely to make headway—the doctor gets Sylvia Dale, a young actress, to impersonate Mrs. Thorne. Together with Miss Dale’s chaperone, the doctor and Sylvia go to the seaside. They are registered as man and wife, though they occupy separate apartments.

Complications ensue when the inventor of the perfume, who is engaged to Sylvia, and Mrs. Thorne arrive, severally, not jointly, at Beauville. An apparently inextricable tangle is continued. This is added to by the arrival of J.J. Jeffreys —no relation to the champion—and his finding out that Sylvia's chaperone is his long lost wife. To be exact, she has been lost twenty-three years. Sylvia is supposed to be her daughter, but J.J. Jeffreys is dismayed when Sylvia tells him her age is twenty-one.

The turns and twists in the fun-making are very amusing to observe. They would, however, give one a headache if he essayed to elucidate them. Indeed, the only lucid intervals in the evening are—the intervals.

Taken at a lively pace, one has to keep mentally alert to keep up with the author. There is no breathing space in the numbers either—they are breathless. In fact, one comes away from the theatre with a feeling that one has laughed himself into a high state of good humor, and visions of delightful girls “dancing the blues away.” If one could only get a week-end ticket to Beauville and a phial of the “High Jinks” perfume, the tourist traffic would be enormous. Everyone at Her Majesty’s last night would be booking berths to-morrow and looking up the fares to-day.

To the producing staffs great credit is due. The pace never stops, and a master hand may be discerned in this very fact. Mr. Harry Burcher was the producer, Miss Minnie Hooper the ballet mistress, Mr. Andrew MacCunn the musical director, and the whole was supervised by Mr. Hugh J. Ward.

“High Jinks” has an admirable company. Miss Dorothy Brunton as Sylvia Dale was charming. Her number with Mr. Paul Plunket, as the inflammable Frenchman, was a sheer delight. It is entitled “Not now, but Later.”  Mr. Plunket decidedly voted in favor of “Now.” Miss Brunton has a dainty waltz refrain, “Is this love at last?” All her work is finished, clever and attractive. Mr. Workman shares one or two numbers with the golden-haired little Australian. Their voices blend harmoniously, and the skilful acting of the English actor makes his performance a notable one. Mr. Field Fisher “eccentricises” the part of Dr. Thome, and gets plenty of genuine laughs. So does Mr. Alfred Frith as a quaint, elderly beau, Colonel Slaughter. A lumber king is the role assigned to Mr. W.H. Rawlins, and the “High Jinks” perfume has a wonderful influence upon him. Miss Vie (as the chaperone). Miss Gertrude Glyn (as a naughty actress posing as a nurse), Miss Marie Eaton (as Mrs. Thorne) and Miss Eileen Cottey are all “in the picture.” A graceful dance is given by Mlle. Novotna and M. Lauschmann in the Cabaret scene of the third act.

One of the hits of the evening was the ragging of the prison scene from ”Faust.” The cast was Mr. Workman, Mephistopheles; Miss Eaton, Marguerite; and Mr. Maguire, Valentine. It is a knockout number, and the audience would be listening to it yet if the singers were agreeable.

The well painted scenes were by Mr. Leslie Board and W. Little. The Cabaret set, with the English Channel in the background, was particularly effective.

The first matinee will be on Wednesday.

Sunday Times (Sydney), Sunday, 7 February 1915, p.6, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article120792475

A novel promotion for High Jinks featured in the Sunday Times, from photos by Monte Luke, which also included Business Manager, George Matheson, the scenic artist (Leslie Board), Property Master, Rock Phillips and the theatre’s call-boy.

Act 1—Dr. Thorne’s Sanitorium, near Paris. Scenery by William Little.

JCW Scene Book 8, Theatre Heritage Australia

Acts 2 & 3—Hotel de Pavillion at Beauville, a Bathing Resort on the French Coast. Scenery by Leslie Board.

JCW Scene Book 8, Theatre Heritage Australia

Meanwhile The Sun’s critique was a virtual love letter to lead comedienne, Florence Vie!

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HIGH JINKS.

Light, Bright, And Gay.

FLORENCE VIE IN THE VEIN.

NEW COMEDY CATCHES ON.

Thank you, Miss Vie. When the producer asks it, few people can in such a rollicking spirit as you slap the old fellows on their bald heads and say, “Oh, go hon.” You did a lot of it in the third act, when your business was to turn the supper scene into one of those devil-may-care restaurant sprees; and the audience liked it so much that no matter how puffed you were, they wanted you to keep going for another quarter-hour. But you had to say no. You are getting like Hamlet, you know; embonpoint and short in the wind. You show wonderful vitality and love of fun. “I don’t know how you do it, but you do.”

But in addition to this jollity, Miss Vie, you can manage quieter effects, as you did in the first act, and part of the second. The formal thanks of the first paragraph are tendered to you because of all the individuals concerned In the musical comedy, you were the one who supplied the greatest propelling force for the general gaiety.

(We must interrupt these few remarks to you, Miss Vie, in order to inform the public that the musical comedy High Jinks, an American extravaganza, was produced at Her Majesty’s Theatre by Harry B. Burcher, yourself, and others last night.)

Of course you don’t imagine, Miss Vie, that we think you the only good thing in the piece. The piece is generally pleasing, and promises to hit the public taste better than any musical comedy from America since The Belle of New York. It contains lots of ragtime, of which some people grow tired: but others are just beginning to feel enthusiastic about it. Your own songs are raggy. To tell the truth, you don't sing them as well as you could when you were the end girl in the Midnight Raiders; but you weren't engaged for your singing.

Forgetting yourself for a moment, Miss Vie, what do you think of Marie Eaton? It is a fine thing that this dashing singer should be so well placed. Give her something bold in the way of dress and something florid in the way of music, and she will do better in the role than anyone else now in Australia could. It is a pity that that black-and-white square-cut garment hung so awkwardly in the second act. Her other costumes were The Thing, and she stormed the trenches as usual with her singing.

You must share the general opinion, Miss Vie, concerning the finale of the first act— that it was striking both in its musical arrangement and in its setting. Let us mention also that your legs were easily recognisable in the quaint recall given after the first act. That was a clever trick. After the curtain rose to the recall, the whole company pranced across the stage; then danced across in close file; then showed only their legs beneath a hardly-raised curtain. Little quiffs like that add to the popularity of a show.

Be good-natured, Miss Vie, as we know you are; join with us in congratulating Dorothy Brunton on a decided success, but you needn’t take responsibility for the statement that her voice was thin in singing. She acted with great daintiness and charm.

Alfred Frith, as Colonel Slaughter, was a good study all the time; and when he sat drinking beside you at the supper-table, he was just full enough to be funny. He got drunk like a gentleman; a silly, old gentleman; and you and he together provided some great comedy of the broad sort.

Of course, Florence (we use the Christian name as the night advances), you have often seen Field Fisher’s real face. It isn’t often seen by audiences, but was revealed last night when he played Dr. Thorne. It is a funny face, isn’t it? And he's a funny comedian, a first-rate laugh-maker. He shares your success.

Perhaps, Flo, you admire C.H. Workman more than we do. He always seems to us so darned matter-of-fact in his alleged comedy. His singing passes muster. But there you are; he’s the lead—so why criticise him?

That was a bad failure of a Frenchman you put into the show, Florrle. Paul Plunket playing Jacques Rabelais. If he came into the lines at Soissons talking with that heavy, accent and barking his final “Ha” and “H’m” like that, he would be shot as a spy. His usual complement, Gertrude Glyn, was tacked on to the rest of the cast as a dancer Chi-Chi, who flirted indiscriminately. She was gentle, amiable, and undistinguished; as is her habit.

Ah, Florence, don’t you wish you could pirouette like Vlasta Novotna? She and Victor Lauschmann don’t put much striking originality into recent dances; but the spirit and movement of life are in them.

W.H. Rawlins as the Lumber King turns out to be your long-lost husband. He does you proud, if it was you who taught him to act; for his performance was a specially good piece of heavy comedy.

The show is a good one; but honestly, Flo, it’s a bit naughty in parts, isn’t it? Men employing casual wives “scientifically,” and booking up double rooms in hotels—though there is of course never a hint that they occupy them. And bits of the dialogue here and there . . . but blue is a color which doesn’t displease Sydney audiences.

You understand, Miss Vie, that the reason why the notice is written in this way is in order to get your name into every paragraph; because the writer thinks that your share in the success deserves that amount of mention.

Space fails. There is room only to say that the comedy is smart, and fairly consecutive in spite of so many loosely-strung numbers; the setting is handsome, the dressing bright, if not extravagant, and the songs better than usual. The waltz refrain, Love at Last (Dorothy Brunton) will be popular. The burlesque of Faust in rag-time goes well with those who like rag-time burlesque—and apparently 99 of the 100 do.

First matinee next Wednesday.

The Sun (Sydney), Sunday, 7 February 1915, p.4, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article229323706

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(l to r) Charles Workman as Dick Wayne, Dorothy Brunton as Sylvia Dale, Field Fisher as Dr. Robert Thorne and Marie Eaton as Mrs. Marion Thorne. Photos by Monte Luke.

“HIGH JINKS.”

“High Jinks,” the new “musical follity” at Her Majesty’s Theatre, is a gorgeously-dressed piece of hilarious nonsense, for the most part noisily scored to suit the uproarious high spirits of a bustling crowd on a well-filled stage. At the same time it boasts two fascinating melodies which delight the general ear. The scent-theme is heard as often as Dick Wayne (C.H. Workman) waves the magic “High Jinks” perfume beneath the nose of one of his victims, with the result that “the veriest icicle glows with the warmth of spring, and the prude becomes a daredevil.”

In this way the sight of various people gliding and springing like puppets whenever the string was pulled to the sparkling orchestral piece that emphasised the comic situation never failed to put the audience in high good humour. The second theme on which the popularity of the musical farce will be founded is a charming “valse lente” in the Viennese style, first introduced in song-form by Miss Dorothy Brunton, with plangent harp and flowery reed-phrases in the dainty scoring, and afterwards taken up as a chorus, and happily repeated whenever the action threatened to flag. The irresponsible merriment of “High Jinks” revealed tedious places here and there in the earlier scenes, but really clever acting by all concerned triumphed and the advantage of a capital last act in which Mr. W.H. Rawlins and Miss Florence Vie carried all before them, so prized-up the entertainment as a whole, that it may be confidently “tipped” for a good run.

Mr. Rawlins makes leisurely headway before he becomes prominently “in the running” for first honours, his part being that of a ponderous. elderly American timber king. This stout old way-back, one J.J. Jeffreys, cherishes sentimental recollections of Adelaide Fontaine (Florence Vie), an actress who deserted him 23 years before, and a year after their separation mendaciously announced that he was the father of a lovely baby-girl. The reconciliation between the two, their duet “Come Hither,” Mr. Rawlins’ prosy supper-speech, and the joyous surprise of handsprings from an elderly actor of high tonnage, were amongst the uproarious delights of the evening. Miss Vie’s quietly humorous aplomb as a woman capable of enjoying a champagne lunch with undiminished zest no matter what perilous complications may develop, and her calm indifference to the fact that Sylvia Dale was not her daughter at all, as “papa” must quickly find out, kept up the interest of the plot. Rag-time was evidently all the rage when the musical comedy was written and Miss Vie’s comic numbers were mostly in that idiom, which, with chorus and brass effects, almost invariably leads to sheer noise. The blue of her costume in “Jim” clashed horribly with the hostile tone of the blue blazers of her attendant Swains—and at eight to one the lady should give way!

The principal figure in the story was Mr. Field Fisher, as an American specialist in Paris, a Dr. Thorne, who struck only occasional sparks of humour from dull dialogue, but looked the part, and comically expressed in dance the joys of “High Jinks.” Besides her well-rendered valse-song, Miss Brunton as Sylvia Dale, played her rapturous little love-passages prettily, and though the enunciation of her first song was quite indistinct, she hit the mark in “By the Sea.” Herein a roguish-looking bevy of bathing-girls threw themselves in easy attitudes upon an imaginary shore whilst the rhythmic “swish” of a shingly beach was suggested from the wings as on additional accompaniment. Miss Marie Eaton (Mrs. Thorne) was twice encored, in association with Messrs. Workman and Fred Maguire, for a ragtime burlesque upon the prison-trio from “Faust.” Mr. Workman did not reveal new points as an actor, but his tuneful voice was well used in various duets, including “Chi-Chi,” with Gertrude Glyn. This latter artist’s best effort was the tender song “Bubbles,” the idea of which was further illustrated by coloured puff-balls launched upon the bosom of the air. Laughter was caused by Mr. Paul Plunket's amusing, through weird, caricature of Jacques Rabelais. Mr. Alfred Frith’s soundly-drawn portrait of Colonel Slaughter, a military boarding-house buck, proved of immense service in the supper-scene. Beauville, with the purple shadows of night suffusing a breath of turquoise sea, formed the central tableau by Leslie Board. Here, also, Vlasta Novotna won applause by her dazzling pirouettes within the embrace of Victor Lauschmann. Mr. Harry B. Burcher directed this successful production, Mr. Andrew MacCunn conducted the music, and Miss Minnie Hooper the dances, and all were included in the recalls of enthusiasm at the close.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Monday, 8 February 1915, p.4, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article15549955

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Field Fisher as Dr. Thorne with W.H. Rawlins as J.J. Jeffreys. Photo by Monte Luke.

Dancers, Vlasta Novotna and Victor Lauschmann perform in the Act 3 cabaret. Photo by Monte Luke.

HIGH JINKS.

 MUSICAL JOLLITY AT HER MAJESTY’S.

There is a good deal of smart comedy in “High Jinks,” which was produced by the Williamson management at Her Majesty’s Theatre on Saturday night. The development of the story, with its numerous absurd complications, is far more coherent than the majority of pieces of the class, and was undoubtedly well thought out. One can quite imagine an author getting rather mixed himself in working through this scheme, in which wives and pretended wives pay such important roles.

It emanates from the act of a doctor (Robert Thorne) being caught by a truculent Frenchman (M. Jacques Rabelais) kissing his (the Frenchman’s) wife. Rabelais wants either a duel with the doctor or to kiss the other’s wife. Thorne, under the advice of Dick Wayne, supplies another wife for the kissing, and away everybody goes from the doctor’s sanatorium near Paris to Beauville, a French bathing-place, where the scenes—particularly that at a supper in the  Hotel de Pavilion—are extremely gay. Leslie Board’s picture of this bathing resort is decidedly a success. The idea of Dick Wayne’s perfume that acts as a kind of rejuvenator, though not entirely new, is responsible for fine wholesome fun. In parts the comedy gets close to the danger line, but people seem to like that.

As for the music, much of it will appeal to those who like ragtime, and Sydney’s taste is certainly inclined that way nowadays more than ever, perhaps for lack of higher musical encouragement. There is a kind of ragtime burlesque on “Faust” (sung by Miss Marie Eaton, Mr. C.H. Workman, and Mr. Fred Maguire), over which the audience went fairly wild. But everything was like that in the uproarious supper scene.

Mr. Field Fisher’s performance of the part of Dr. Robert Thorne was cleverly humorous, especially while he was under the influence of the “High Jinks” perfume, invented by Dick Wayne (a part smartly played by Mr. C.H. Workman). Excellent humor was exhibited by Mr. W.H. Rawlins, as an American lumber king, who had lost his wife for over 29 years, and discovers her at last in Adelaide Fontaine (a character played on broad lines by Miss Florence Vie), and Mr. Alfred Frith, who made everybody laugh at the supper table, as Colonel Slaughter. Mr. Paul Plunkett’s Rabelais was eccentric, but not convincing. Miss Dorothy Brunton (Sylvia Dale), Miss Gertrude Glyn (Mlle. Chi-Chi). Miss Marie Eaton (the real Mrs. Thorne), and Miss Nellie Hobson (Madame Rabelais) each had her admirers.

Evening News (Sydney), Monday, 8 February 1915, p.8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article115825612

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The ballet girls, including Madge Elliott (2nd from top). Photo by Monte Luke.

Alfred Frith as Col. Slaughter. Photo by Monte Luke.

“HIGH JINKS.”

AMERICAN COMEDY AT HER MAJESTY’S.

Ever since a few peculiarly seductive bars of waltz music made “The Merry Widow” one of the successes of its period, composers in two continents have been striving to find some other peculiarly seductive bars, so as to make some other musical comedy the success of some other season. They have not succeeded overwell, but In “High Jinks,” produced at Her Majesty’s on Saturday night, there Is a frequently recurring little melody, which in a month’s time will be whistled by every messenger boy in Sydney. “High Jinks” is the name given to a new liquid, the taste—even the aroma—of which possesses remarkable properties. Under its influence “the icicle glows with warmth of spring, and the prude becomes a devil,” and the change is announced by a lilting little strain, which sets everybody's feet a-dancing. They dance through three acts of comedy, from the more or less sedateness of a specialist’s surgery to the balcony of a Beauvllle hotel, where the jinks are, in truth very high.

But “High Jinks” has come to stay. Being American, its music is syncopated fairly well, out of compliment to the prevailing musical fashion, though a little bit of syncopation is not unpleasant, if only by way of variety. Yet the purely musical side of “High Jinks” is clever. Mr. Workman’s first song sets a high standard, both for soloists and chorus. Half a dozen numbers, which come within the legitimate scope of the play—notably a waltz song, “Is This Love at Last,” by Dorothy Brunton-—are far removed from the commonplace. One interpolated, number—“Faust” in ragtime—whilst standing out as an offence against everything associated with the memory of Gounod, a horrible travesty upon one of the world’s masterpieces, is so clever, as to make it almost the musical success of the evening. The final trio of “Faust”—Mephistopheles, Faust, and Marguerite—singing the triumphant “Holy Angel in Heaven Blest,” is actually produced and sung in horrible ragtime by Miss Marie Eaton, Mr. C.H. Workman, and Mr. Fred Maguire. The parody is a piece of gigantic American impudence, but its cleverness is undoubted. There is similar cleverness throughout the whole performance, which, produced on a substantially lavish scale, may be quoted as one of the best things of its kind that America has produced in recent years. And the few bars of real live melody give promise of providing a sound foundation for a successful career.

Dr. Robert Thorne, an American specialist in Paris, is a very grave, austere, scientific person, interested only in patients and in science. He is the despair of his wife, until Dick Wayne comes along with the liquid discovered outback somewhere, which has the curious effect on the nerves already referred to. He submits it to Thorne as a property with millions in it. Thorne is a scoffer and will not listen to Wayne. In order to prove its potency, however, Wayne smuggles some into the doctor's drink. At once the little melody is heard coming up from the first violins, the flutes take it up, then the clarinets, then the full orchestra—and the metamorphosis is complete. The staid scientific icicle is infected with the warmth of a human spring. He suffers a grateful Parisienne to kiss him just as her husband happens to be looking on, and the Frenchman insists on either a duel or the privilege of kissing the doctor's wife by way of compensation. The rest is comparatively easy. The Frenchman may kiss anybody so long as it is not the doctor’s wife, and in order to secure this end various impersonations have to take place.

One of the doctor’s patients is Mr. J.J. Jeffreys, an American lumber king, who lost his wife 23 years ago. Adelaide Fontaine happens to be the wife, and circumstances draw her to Beauville at the time her husband is there undergoing a cure. She has a protege, Sylvia Dale, who is to be introduced as the doctor’s wife. Jeffreys has a particularly pretty dancer attending him as a nurse, and the mix up leads to a great finale. Through it all runs Colonel Slaughter in the role of more or less idiotic commentator.

There are quite a number of situations which progress as far as they legitimately can, but a whiff of “High Jinks” sets the fiddles going, the fiddles infect the flute, the flute the clarinets, and the parties concerned dance themselves out of all the difficulties that seem to be looming ahead.

Three characters stood but conspicuously—Mr. W.H. Rawlins as the American lumber king; Mr. Field Fisher as Dr. Thorne; and Miss Florence Vie as Adelaide Fontaine. The first named was always clever. His speech at the supper table, into which he tried to introduce a few local references when he had better have adhered to the “book,” was the only flaw in an otherwise great performance. Mr. Fisher was an immediate success. His smile, developing breadth with the accompanying music, was irresistible. Miss Vie, in a part which in more or less readymade, also came through with flying colours. One misses the twang which would have put the perfecting touch to the extravagant and loud Americaine, and the critic has not to say too much of Miss Vie’s singing; but the lady, nevertheless, took a big share in the honors of the evening. Mr. Workman has not much scope in the more or less stodgy part of Dick Wayne, whose chief business seems to be singing, and to spread the aroma which sets everybody else on the move; but Mr. Frith’s Colonel Slaughter was another of the successes of the night. Mr. Paul Plunket was the Frenchman—earnest, but not French; just as Miss Gertrude Glyn, in her part of Mdlle. Chi Chi, a dancer from the Folies Bergeres, was very interesting—but not Parisian. Her “bubble” song near the end deserved a recall.

The musical honors were shared between Miss Marie Eaton as Mrs. Thorne, and Miss Dorothy Brunton as Sylvia Dale, both of whom were fortunate in having to sing songs that were suitable to their style of voice, and in the various numbers in which they were joined by Mr. Workman (who carried all the male vocalisation) all did well. The chorus work was excellent. The dancing was clever, the dresses pretty, and the staging lavish, and there is everything in the production to warrant extended popularity. There will be a matinee on Wednesday.

Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), Monday, 8 February 1915, p.8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article238847276

Dorothy Brunton as Sylvia Dale, Paul Plunket as Mons. Jacques Rabelais and Charles Workman as Dick Wayne. Photo by Monte Luke.

Gertrude Glyn as Mlle. Chi-Chi with Charles Workman as Dick Wayne. Photo by Monte Luke.

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The musical aspects of High Jinks were also given their due by JCW’s respected Sydney-based Musical Director, Andrew MacCunn and the interpolated Act III trio “Faust in Ragtime” (not in the original New York production) even received comment (and grudging praise) from the “serious” music critic of The Daily Telegraph, echoing that of the paper’s drama critic.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

LIGHT MUSIC

THE PROBLEM IT PRESENTS.

The musical director of High Jinks had innumerable rehearsals with the orchestra and principals before the production at Her Majesty’s last night of the piece.

“There are people,” Mr. MacCunn says, “who imagine that there is no art in light tunes. There is. How many composers of grand opera have tried to ‘dash off’ a musical comedy and dismally failed? The gift of melody is as decided a gift as, say, the gift for writing graceful verse. There is also some special talent required for presenting it. I have rehearsed and conducted grand opera; in fact, I did nothing but that for some years. And it is easier work than musical comedy. Opera, so far as the best works of great composers is concerned, is musical gold. Musical comedy is glitter, without being gold. Therefore it has to be made to seem like it, to be polished until it sparkles brilliantly. There is a whole box of tricks one has to master before he can get the brilliance from the scores. One has to got the vocal brightness from the choruses, the orchestra, and the principals, who in every case are not perfect musicians. Even with such skilled readers of music as Mr. Workman, Mr. Maguire, and Miss Eaton, we have had endless rehearsals for the Faust ragtime trio. The harmonies, the syncopation, and the tricky vocal acrobatics all have to be got with such a degree of certainty and ease that no effort Is apparent. The average person in an audience imagines that lack of effort in an artist denotes that a thing is easy. Few realise the time that artist expends in perfecting a number so that effort is concealed. Many stage aspirants are misled into thinking a thing easy through it looking that way. It is one of those stage paradoxes that the easier a man’s job seems the more difficult it actually is! That is how it is with the music of High Jinks, for instance.”

The Sun (Sydney), Sunday, 7 February 1915, p.13, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article229323678

High Jinks song list

Andrew MacCunn, as seen by Harry Julius (1912)

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MUSICAL NOTES.

“High Jinks” perpetrates an extremely clever “paraphrase” of the prison scene in Gounod’s “Faust.” It is a polyphonic tangle of sound for three voices, accompanied by the orchestra, that must have demanded unremitting rehearsal. Old contrapuntal Bach would be filled with envy if he could hear it. So clever is it that the “parody” is lost sight of, a fortunate circumstance for those who have enshrined Gounod’s masterpiece in their hearts. But where will these musically irreverent liberties end? Perhaps we shall hear the Austral Quartet engaged to play ragtime at Bridge parties, and the stately Philharmonic chorus chanting cake-walk variations on Handelian themes. Seriously, though, no music-lovers would like to see overmuch of this trifling, however clever, and however well executed. The sublime is so near the ridiculous, it is said, that when next we see Goethe’s hapless Marguerite, her tragic distress will not touch us, remembering its humorous travesty in “High Jinks.” In a way, no doubt, the burlesque can show good cause; the trail of the artificial is spread over such scenes as the one in question. The new version of the “Faust” prison scene is but a modern commentary upon the older operatic conventions. It is obviously put forward as an item in the business of relieving much-tried humanity from the monotony of everyday existence; as such it is to be accepted in the same spirit as it is placed before the public.

The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), Saturday, 13 February 1915, p.6, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article238844951

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The ‘Faust in Ragtime’ trio with Charles Workman, Marie Eaton and Fred Maguire. Photo by Monte Luke.

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Meanwhile the weekly Bulletin’s critique of the show was in typical flippant fashion, accompanied by Harry Julius’s comical caricatures.

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SUNDRY SHOWS

“High Jinks,” the latest JCW light musical show, now kicking cheerfully at Her Majesty’s, Sydney, is the usual French comedy with its fangs drawn. There is just enough left in it to suggest that, in its original state, it must have been a death-adder. There is, for instance, the passage-at-arms between the pretty actress-nurse and the elderly rich American, who has been sent away in her charge by a doctor made frivolous by a whiff of the wonder-working “High Jinks” perfume. Finding that she has registered as his wife at two hotels (they have just been politely moved on from the first), he strikes a virtuous attitude and asks her what she means by it. “Why!” she drawls amazedly, “I thought it was expected of me!” The plot is quite simple and conduces to hilarity. After one whiff of the “High Jinks” raffing gas, everybody becomes uproarious and morally irresponsible and runs away with the other party. It is the sort of central idea that would become boresome if done to slow, yearning music by a lot of staid, easy-going principals with the fat of middle-age thick upon them. Fortunately the music—of which there is a good supply—is nearly all lively and tuneful, and the few Jinkers who are not young and handsome have some other advantages.

* * * *

Dorothy Brunton is the usual fluffy vision in a cream-puff part and a couple of songs, one of which, a remembersome waltz, is sung with taking ease. Her careful voice-production is in delicate contrast to Marie Eaton’s method of using her high soprano, which is forced unpleasantly, especially in a superfluous Faust burlesque several yards too long. However, Miss Eaton's acting is uniformly good, and so is cheerful Florence Vie’s. The fair and willowy Gertrude Glyn as usual looms up in one or two gowns that stun the stalls; but a wide, sunny smile disarms criticism. She almost succeeds in being pathetic with a song in which large rubber balloons are referred to as soap bubbles. Field Fisher, C.H. Workman and W.H. Rawlins, the chief comedians, put up a remarkably good plain-clothes performance. Rawlins is the best off for “fat,” as the moral American invalid mentioned above. Chris Wren (French waiter) and Alfred Frith (burlesque Colonel) form a good comedy second-line. Paul Plunket succeeds in being the sort of infatuated stage Frenchman that numberless other actors have failed to be; and the dainty little Vlasta Novotna whirls gracefully with partner Victor Lauschmann in a smart third-act specialty. The mounting and dresses are good, and the chorus and orchestra do their duty; but the Iron Crosses and other decorations must be handed to the 14 capable principals.

The Bulletin (Sydney), 11 February 1915, p.8

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With the increased perils faced by commercial shipping from the UK and the Continent, which were subject to possible attack by German battleships and U-boats, the importation of overseas artists for theatrical engagements by J.C. Williamson’s was severely hampered and consequently Australian actresses were promoted to leading roles in its productions – a situation that was remarked upon and celebrated by the Sydney Sunday Times.  

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THE NIGHT OF THE AUSTRALIAN

THREE NATIVE-BORN GIRLS AS STARS

Three critics of the “Sunday Times” held a hasty consultation last night, resulting in a collaboration upon three Williamson attractions. Each critic was struck by the prominence achieved by Australian artists at the principal Sydney theatres. Australians were conspicuously represented at Her Majesty’s, the Theatre Royal, and the Criterion. It is noteworthy that the three leading actresses at each performance were native-born.

At Her Majesty’s, Miss Dorothy Brunton appears as Sylvia Dale, the sympathetic role of “High Jinks” on the feminine side. Miss Brunton gives a performance worthy of any light musical offering of any theatre in the world. She has in addition to many small graces that go to make up charm, admirable acting assets. Her technique is certain, and reflects the mind of a thorough student of dramatic art. Although a mere girl, she brings to her performance the wide experience of a carefully trained vocalist and actress. It is a sheer delight to watch her in the various numbers of the score that are allotted to her. One of these in particular, “Not Now, But Later,” represents the perfection of stage effect. Not only is she skilful in her singing of this, but the dance she shares with Mr. Paul Plunket, is neat and cleverly rhythmical to a degree seldom witnessed on the lyric stage. There is little doubt that if Miss Brunton had come to us from abroad she would be recognised as the most successful engagement of years.

In the same theatre there is an artist of exceptional merit in Miss Marie Eaton. Miss Eaton is another Australian who shows a true sense of the theatre. All her work is ably considered and her effects wonderfully sure. She has also singing abilities away ahead of what might be expected in the class of attraction in which she figures. Her vocalism is brilliant and theatrically effective. In the Faust trio she displays a gift of syncopation that is extraordinary outside the native American. Contrasted with this, is her spirited rendering of “When Sammy Sang The Marseillaise,” a number that would be a hit in pantomime.

There are two other young Australians who show promise in this bright show—Miss Cecil Bradley, who speaks the lines of a French boy in buttons with remarkable verisimilitude, and Miss Eileen Cottey, who appears as the demure Red Cross nurse of Dr. Thorne.

Then there must be mentioned the excellent work of Miss Minnie Hooper, the Australian ballet mistress of the Williamson management. All the chorus elaborations are hers, and they would do credit to the most ingenious inventor of enlivening and hustling stage movements of the New York productions. Miss Hooper is also to be congratulated upon the splendid material she has to her hand in the beautiful and intelligent chorus girls who are such a feature in “High Jinks.”

Touching on the dramatic side of the Williamson forces, the company at the Theatre Royal [in “The Sign of the Cross”] exhibits several Australians of conspicuous merit. Outstanding among these is Miss Lizette Parkes, who plays Mercia to the Marcus Superbus of Mr. Julius Knight. Miss Parkes got something out of this character last night that is new to Australian playgoers. She interpreted Wilson Barrett's heroine on lines of originality that show her to be no mere copyist or slavish follower of tradition. Miss Parkes made Mercia spiritual, and brought to the role a simple dignity that exercised a powerful emotional appeal. Heretofore we have seen statuesque and sometimes cold impersonators of the Christian girl whose faith is equal to the test of martyrdom. For the first time one realised the true inwardness of the character, and it remained for an Australian to bring it home to us in its full force.

Sunday Times (Sydney), Sunday, 14 February 1915, p.6, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article120797610

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In support of the war effort (and also as a good public relations exercise) J.C. Williamson’s was at the forefront in organising extracurricular promotional activities for it company members.

* * * * * * * * * * *

POLICE CARNIVAL.

Mr. Hugh Ward, the Sydney director of J.C. Williamson, Ltd., is interesting himself a good deal in connection with the police and firemen’s carnival next Saturday, and he instructed Mr. Matheson, the manager of Her Majesty’s Theatre, and Mr. Rock Phillips, the property master, on Saturday to have dress rehearsals of the tableau of Britannia at the theatre yesterday.

About 20 members of the “High Jinks” Company were in attendance, and the morning was spent in arranging the tableau, which will be most effective, and will lead the parade.

Two other members of JCW companies are to be in the procession as Joan of Arc and the Statue of Liberty. Mr. Ward will decide this morning who will fill the parts mentioned.

Members of the Australian Vaudeville Artists’ Federation were also engaged yesterday in rehearsal for the carnival. They are to have tableaux of Australia and Montenegro, and, judging from the displays, their efforts towards making the procession a spectacular one are certain of success.

The members of the Stagehands’ Society, under Mr. Rock Phillips, have received permission from Mr. Ward to wear pantomime costumes in the procession.

The brigades of ladles who are to appear in different national costumes and represent the allied countries have been busily engaged with the organisers, making final plans for the carnival, and they are having costume rehearsals early this week.

At the Showground the theatricals who appear in the procession will also take part in the afternoon's program.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Monday, 22 February 1915, p.7, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article15562972

PATRIOTIC CARNIVAL.

The arrangements for the Police and Firemen’s Patriotic Carnival on Saturday have been completed. Over 20,000 tickets have been sold.

The procession is to leave the Domain at 10.20 o’clock In the morning, but the processionists will be in the Domain at 9.30 o’clock. The parade will be nearly two miles long, and the displays are considered to be the finest of their kind yet shown in Sydney. Miss Alma Phillips, of the Julius Knight Company, as Joan of Arc, will lead the French section. In the preparation of her armour and headgear, her father, Mr. Rock Phillips, property master for J.C. Williamson, Ltd., has used some chain-mail which was fixed to the crown worn by the late Mr. George Rignold when he first appeared at the Drury Lane Theatre, London, in “Henry VIII.” The British Empire tableau, with Miss Hope Hunter, of the “High Jinks” Company, as Britannia, and Miss Dolan, of the Julius Knight Company, posing as the Statue of Liberty in the French section, will be features. In fact, all the sections will be well represented. A fireman, Mr. Ephraim Stoneham, head of the mechanical department at Fire Headquarters, will be dressed as John Bull. The Canadian representatives have a splendidly arranged tableau, and Mr. A. Gordon Wesche, superintendent of the P. and O. Company in Australia, has given permission for 100 Indians now in Sydney to march in the Indian section. There will be Maoris on parade, and vaudeville artists and baseballers have arranged tableaux, while the naval, military, police, and fire brigade forces will each be in strong force.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Thursday, 25 February 1915, p.7, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article28113947

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Charles Workman, too, played his part in providing “copy” for the relentless publicity machine put into motion to promote J.C. Williamson productions.

 A HORRIBLE SITUATION.

CHARLES WORKMAN'S STORY.

Many extraordinary experiences have been encountered by Charles Workman, the infectiously humorous comedian, who, as Dick Wayne in High Jinks, is high priest in chief of that rollicking musical farce. When engaged at the Savoy Theatre, London, in the regime of Gilbert and Sullivan it was the custom to play at least one afternoon a week, and the opera chosen for the day show was invariably different to that on the evening bill, On this particular occasion Mr. Workman had been playing Jack Point in The Yeoman of the Guard during the afternoon, and having got rid of the trials and tribulations of the pathetic jester, went to his lodgings for a rest previous to the night performance.

At the usual time Mr. Workman proceeded to dress for the evening’s entertainment. Presently a red-headed youth called, “Mr. Workman, on the stage, please,” and the favorite comedian at once made his way towards the stage and took his stand in the wings. Suddenly his hair began to rise on end, his backbone became frozen, he shivered as in a palsy, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He heard the chorus in full blast singing as they bowed and kow-towed towards the wings where he was standing, “Defer, defer, to the Lord High Executioner.”

Heavens, The Mikado, and he dressed for The Yeoman of the Guard! There was no help for it. He had to go on. Consternation was depicted on the faces of the people on the stage. Presently it gave way to merriment. First they giggled, then guffawed, and finally roared. The audience, taking up the general laughter, stamped and yelled. With one wild look Mr, Workman flew from the stage, tearing off the fateful garments as he ran, reached his dressing-room, and with a despairing shriek threw himself from a third-story window on to the paved courtyard beneath. Then he woke up, and found that he had tumbled out of bed, having torn to ribbons a new pair of pyjamas.

The Sun (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 28 February 1915, p.13, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page24526170

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British comedienne, Florence Vie also contributed her fair share to the theatrical gossip columns.

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BEAUVILLE AND COOGEE.

FLORENCE VIE COMPARES THEM

“Nobody has asked me for a pattern of the bathing gown I wear in High Jinks,” said Florence Vie with, comic ruefulness, after mentioning the fact that the chorus members were receiving requests as to who made theirs.

“You see, my purpose is to be grotesque. All my effects in the clothes way in this production are bizarre … I am a humorous vulgarian. If the character is not accepted in that spirit, then there is ‘nothing to it,’ as the Americans say.

“I am referred to as 'a little September morn.’ Really I feel more like summer afternoon—at Coogee. There, however, I would probably be wearing a floppy cottonette Canadian, judging from observation of the beach. I have noticed that the surf beach garbs of the ocean bathing places about Sydney are utilitarian rather than aesthetic. I wonder what would be said if our Beauvllle girls in their dainty costumes invaded Coogee one Sunday morning. The press agent ought to try it. I think there would be a sensation. But in Australia the surf is an enjoyment. Girls go in and splash about. Looks are their last concern. At the French watering places they don’t go near the water. You see them parading in beautiful bathing gowns, and most of them don't get any more wet than the chorus in High Jinks could get in the painted ocean.

“All things considered, I think the Coogee way is better. There you can feel nice. At Beauvllle you can only look nice—‘By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea!’”

The Sun (Sydney, NSW) Sunday, 14 February 1915, p.13, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page24526030

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As the Sydney season of High Jinks drew to a satisfactory close after a run of six weeks of dispensing fun and frivolity to its war-weary audiences, its esteemed Musical Director found himself on the receiving end of some unscripted high jinks perpetrated by the company members, as related in the Personal columns of the next day’s newspapers.  

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mr. Andrew MacCunn, who has for some years now successfully conducted the J.C. Williamson orchestras, experienced the surprise of his life at the close of “High Jinks” at Her Majesty's Theatre last night. Raising his baton with confidence for the National Anthem, his orchestra responded with an exuberant rendering of the “Wedding March,” whilst a crowd of front-stall patrons joined the artists in pelting the embarrassed musician with confetti. Mr. MacCunn’s secret was a secret no more! He is to marry Miss Forester to-day.

The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW) Thursday, 18 March 1915, p.8

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Following the Wednesday evening performance, Hugh J. Ward presented MacCunn with a silver salver from J.C. Williamson, Ltd., a cabinet of cutlery from the company, and entree dishes from the orchestra.

Andrew MacCunn was duly married to Adelaide-born musician, Miss Laura Forrester at St. Stephen’s Presbyterian Church, Phillip Street, Sydney by the Rev. John Ferguson on 18 March. The bride was given away by Mr. E.J. Tait, who at that time was the General Manager of the Sydney branch of J.C. Williamson Ltd. Her Majesty’s Theatre Orchestra attended the church and played musical selections.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

CLOSE OF “HIGH JINKS”

“High Jinks,” which has crowded Her Majesty’s Theatre throughout its run, came to an end last night amidst scenes of enthusiasm and floral presentations. Indeed, there can be no doubt that, but for the interruption of Easter, the American “musical jollity” would have held its place for weeks to come. The musical comedy provided plenty of good parts, and Messrs. Fisher, Workman, Rawlins, Plunket, Misses Brunton, Glynn, Eaton, and Vie were all seen to advantage in it. The J.C. Williamson Company will introduce this piece in Melbourne next Saturday as the Easter attraction.

The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Saturday, 20 March 1915, p.21

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As JCW’s New English Musical Comedy Company wended its way Southwards via train to open at Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne on Easter Saturday, 27 March 1915, its Sydney counterpart prepared to pay host to the pantomime Cinderella, which had entertained Melbourne audiences for a good 8 week season over the Christmas–New Year period, followed by a stopover in Brisbane during early March.  

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Endnotes

High Jinks (A Musical Jollity in Three Acts). Book by Leo Ditrichstein and Otto Hauerbach [Harbach]. Based on Leo Ditrichstein's farce Before and After, (adapted from the French farce Les Dragées d'Hercule by Maurice Hennequin and Paul Bilhaud). Music by Rudolf Friml. Lyrics by Otto Hauerbach [Harbach]. Produced by Arthur Hammerstein. Opened 10 December 1913 at the Lyric Theatre, moved 12 January 1914 to the Casino Theatre, and closed 13 June 1914 after 213 performances.

High Jinks midi files, featuring the full score of the musical, may be heard online at:https://www.gsarchive.net/AMT/highjinks/index.html

The vocal score for High Jinks published by G. Schirmer: New York in 1913 may be read (and downloaded) from the Internet Archive athttps://archive.org/details/highjinksmusicalf00friml/mode/2up

The orchestra parts for High Jinksextant in the ‘J.C. Williamson collection of performance materials’ at the National Library of Australia (reference: https://trove.nla.gov.au/work/34454117) reveal that the musical was scored for leader; 1st violin; 2nd violin; viola; cello; bass; bassoon; clarinet; flute; oboe; cornets; horns; trumpets; trombone; drums and harp.

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Postscript

MONTE LUKE

THEATRICAL PHOTOGRAPHER

AN ILLUSTRATED INTERVIEW.

THERE were signs of “a certain liveliness” in Mr. Monte Luke’s studio when the writer called. One star of great magnitude was in possession of the chair, some lesser lights were examining prints; an assistant was hard at work coloring transparencies for the front of the theatre.

The studio at the back of the Theatre Royal, Sydney, is a small one, without trimmings. Subjects don’t need to be cajoled into it, nor flattered while there with comfortable lounges and luxurious carpets. On the way to it the outsider gets some fascinating glimpses of the big JCW property room, and perhaps of some members of a company practising a dance in another room.

Mr. Luke, with the curly hair, the smile that won’t come off, and a cigarette, adjourns to the three by two darkroom to develop plates and answer questions.

“Yes, there have been a good many theatrical celebrities in front of my camera. There were Oscar Asche and Lily Brayton. I was particularly interested in taking Mr. Asche, as I was born a few doors away from his birthplace in Geelong. There were Lewis Waller and Madge Titheradge, the principals of the Quinlan Opera Co., Graham Moffat and the ‘Bunty’ company, and a good many others, including those now playing in Australia—the Julius Knight, Fred Niblo, Muriel Starr companies, and the new English Comedy Co.

“I don’t remember any particular incidents. They all know their business and pose without any trouble. I press the bulb, and the camera does the rest. It’s very easy.

“Did you see the cinema pictures in ‘Come Over Here?’ Jack Cannot, Johnnie Osborne and some others in a car raced along the road and dashed across the railway line in front of a train. That was a thrilling moment for me as a spectator at the camera. People thought it was a fake. It wasn’t. The pictures were taken at National Park. The engine-driver knew nothing about it beforehand. I guess he was a bit startled to see the car cross in the nick of time.

“We have done some fairly good fake pictures. That was some years ago, before this business had extended so much and we were not so busy. On one occasion, there were no pictures of the pantomime animals, and I suggested a wild beast chase in Centennial Park. A camp of hunters was made up, and property lions, giraffes, etc., taken out. We got photographs of a man treed by a lion, men stalking a giraffe, and things of that sort. Another time an actor was mistaken for a burglar and arrested. We got a super dressed up as a policeman, had the scene re-enacted and photographed it.”

By this time the plates were finished with temporarily, some prints had had a bath and we were out in the studio again.

“Of course, speed is an important matter in this business. I remember when Florence Young came over from Melbourne for ‘The Girl in the Train’ performance. I went up to Strathfield to meet her and take a snap-shot of her in the train. The station-master obligingly pushed the train out of the dark underground platform for me, and I got the picture at a quarter to eleven. At twelve noon the print was in the newspaper offices and appeared the same afternoon.

“I valued very much Mr. Graham Moffat’s praise of some work I did for him. He had been a photographer for many years before he became a playwright and actor.  Before he opened here with ‘Bunty’ he called in one day at four-fifteen, and at five o'clock his photographs were in the newspaper offices. He said they were amongst the best pictures of himself that he had seen.

“Madame Genee started photography out here. She was getting pictures every week from her husband, who was a fairly good amateur, and she thought she would like to send him as good or better. I went round with her frequently to take snapshots in the Gardens and elsewhere. She picked up the game quickly. A very charming lady was Genee.”

“Do you find the ladies more anxious than the men to have their photographs published?” Mr. Luke was asked.

“I don’t find actresses in a hurry to have their photographs taken, as a rule. Perhaps I should say that their anxiety varies inversely with their experience. There is a stage in the career of an actor when he doesn't want any more photographs taken—at any rate, not until his hair turns white all over.

“At first it is interesting, I suppose, to see one's face all over the place. They become almost as familiar to the public as the King’s head, but he has the pull of an exclusive circulation on coins and postage stamps. But it’s a thing one gets used to, like the job of taking ’em.”

“You were once an actor yourself, weren’t you?”

“Yes, and my knowledge of acting has helped me some here. I was for a number of years in Julius Knight’s company, and with Edwin Geach, Clarke and Meynell, and Philip Lytton. I went into the country and played most of Harcourt Beatty’s parts, and I was understudy to Stephen Ewart in the Ethel Irving Co. It was Mr. Knight who advised me to take up photography. Some of my early pictures pleased him, and I kept at it. On returning from New Zealand with the Ethel Irving Co. I found there was nothing doing for me for a few weeks until ‘Ben Hur’ opened; so I took some photographs on my own account and brought along some suggestions to the management. Not long after I was engaged permanently and provided with this studio and dark room.”

“Did you start with those frames of tinted beauties who might very well pass for angels in the dusk with the light behind them?”

“Not exactly. I used to take pictures of the performers in their make-up on matinee day, and put a set of them in a frame. Coloring came later. Mr. Hugh Ward suggested the transparencies. And then we got the set of powerful arc lamps which enable us to take pictures in the day time without the hard starey expression of photographs taken with a flashlight. To-morrow I’ll be taking a lot of scenes in ‘High Jinks.’ Come along to Her Majesty’s and see it done.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The stage was lit for the occasion with white light. The full strength of the company was present as for a full dress rehearsal. The stage manager called out “Take your places, please, for the opening scene,” and the company arranged itself. The camera had been placed on a trestle up the central aisle of the stalls. In a couple of minutes everybody had posed correctly. Mr. Luke focussed the group and with bulb in hand called out, “That’s it; now hold it, hold it, hold it—right!”—click, and the deed was done in less than five minutes. Then groups and single figures appearing in scenes in the first act were taken, the opening of the second act, other groups and individual performers; the camera being removed to the stage for the smaller groups.

“Mr. Workman, will you lean a little nearer to Miss Brunton, please?”

“Now, Mr. Rawlins, if you’ll throw your head back and laugh. I’m ready for you. That’s it. Thanks.”

“Miss—will you pull your foot back, please, it’s in the way.”

It was entertaining to the solitary idle spectator to see a well-known actor or actress in costume and make-up putting on a fatuous grin or pretending to rock with wild laughter. It reminded him of that well-known stage direction on the post card:—“Smile, damn you, smile!” and made him laugh more than a regular performance. Apparently the make-up on the actress's face is not a necessity when photographs are taken with the new lights. Miss Glyn came in a little late and without any make-up, and the photographs taken of her were as good as any. The camera fiend went on, perspiring but imperturbable, until over 150 negatives had been taken. He had started at a quarter past eleven, was interrupted by the rehearsal of a ballet, and had finished at a quarter to two. The whole of the photographs were finished and ready for inspection at a few minutes past five o’clock.

“How many photographs do you turn out in a week?”

“Some weeks, two or three hundred. That would be when a new play opens here. The prints are sent from Sydney to all the other Australian cities and to New Zealand and South Africa. When a new play opens in Melbourne, I run over there in time for Friday’s dress rehearsal and the prints are in front of the theatre on Saturday.”

Every passer-by sees these pictures and apparently likes to see them. The public never gets tired of the faces of the pretty women and the clever men who provide its principal entertainment. That is to say that the public is at least as much interested in the personality of the actor as in his words or songs or even acting. While that is so the photographer who makes as good photographs as Mr. Luke does of theatrical stars is a public benefactor, for he helps to scatter their radiance far beyond the footlights.

The Lone Hand, 1 April 1915, pp.315–317

Additional sources

• The White City Designer, T.H. Eslick, The Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 21 December 1913, p.10, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article126317958
• The White City opening, The Evening News (Sydney, NSW), Thursday, 4 December 1913, p.3, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article117952437
• White City attractions, The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW), Saturday, 29 November 1913, p.15, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page25736325
• Actors’ Day at The White City newspaper reports, TheSun (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 31 January 1915, p.18, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article229321968
• The Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 7 February 1915, p.9, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article120792668
• TheSun (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 7 February 1915, p.5, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article229323765
• The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Monday, 8 February 1915, p.4, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article15549797
• Monte Luke photographs from High Jinks, The Critic (Adelaide, SA), Wednesday, 19 May 1915, p.15, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article212160564
• MacCunn, Forrester marriage, Sunday Times (Sydney, NSW), Sunday, 21 March 1915, p.5, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article120795331
• Richard C. Norton, A Chronology of American Musical Theater, Vol. 2[Oxford: Oxford University Press 2002]
• JCW Prompt Scrapbook 8, Vol. 2, National Library of Australia, Canberra, https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-1250848164/

(left) Theatre Royal, Adelaide, 1881. Photo by Samuel Wright Sweet. State Library of South Australia, Adelaide. (right) C.H. Workman. Photo by Dover Street Studios. Author’s collection.

Built in Hindley Street in 1878 on the site of an earlier theatre of the same name, the Theatre Royal was J.C. Williamson Ltd.’s sole performance venue in Adelaide and, as the theatre’s lessee (since October 1913), The Firm had undertaken its remodelling in 1914, which was enthusiastically described in a newspaper interview with Melbourne-based Managing Director, George Tallis prior to its reopening.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“SMARTEST LITTLE THEATRE.”

ADELAIDE AND THE WILLIAMSON PRODUCTIONS.

[By our Special Reporter.]

In theatrical attractions Adelaide is getting into line with its neighbouring capitals. There is an avalanche of J.C. Williamson attractions approaching. If Mr. George Tallis (managing director of Williamson, Limited) had not made a casual trip to Adelaide last December this city would not, for two or three years, perhaps, have become possessed of the smartest little theatre in Australia.

It was a long while since “the head” had paid a visit to the Adelaide Royal. When he saw its condition, and gauged its possibilities, things began to get busy. Mr. Tallis sped to Sydney and hustled his architect and contractor, Messrs. Pitt and McDonald respectively. To-night, when theatregoers gaze in admiration upon the Hindley street transformation they will witness the fruition of a really tremendous enterprise. The rebuilding of the Theatre Royal has been the most sensational performance staged anywhere by the great entrepreneurs.

The story of the three-shift two-month task is one of splendid management of men allied to superb response on the part of every unit. Even on Friday morning, when a reporter chatted with Mr. Tallis, in the remodelled stalls, there was such chaos of incompletion that the lay mind failed to visualize a public entertainment within 36 hours. Yet every minute was telling its tale and paying its tribute to the brains behind the whole scheme.

—Unique Superiority.—

“Yes,” said Mr. Tallis, “I think we have the finest theatre of its kind in Australia. No place in Melbourne or Sydney can equal it for at least three things. Those are comfort, ventilation, and sighting. We have gone the limit in providing comfort; we have gone one better in securing ventilation; and as for the sighting, from any seat or corner of the building it is simply magnificent. Compared with the acoustics of the old Theatre Royal this new construction will provide immense improvement. See that massive proscenium arch! Notice how it issues from the stage like a gigantic funnel. That is precisely what it is. It throws out the sound for all the world like the funnel on a phonograph. We are going to make the ventilation here a pattern for all our theatres. We are going to reproduce it exactly in our new little theatre in Melbourne, which should be completed in 12 or 18 months. [A reference to the proposed Williamson Theatre, which ultimately would not be constructed due to the on-set of WWI.]

—Red Letter Day.—

“When I speak of comfort here, I want you to see how we have provided not only handsome and luxurious chairs, but there is more space per seat than patrons have ever had in the Royal before. It is all a tribute to our architect and contractor. Than Mr. McDonald I do not think any man living can handle an army of workmen better; he is a wizard. I must give thanks to our representative here, Mr. Herbert Myers, who has ably watched over the whole business, night and day. Saturday will be a red-letter day for J.C. Williamson, Limited, for we shall open two new theatres—this in Adelaide and an Opera House in Wellington, which cost £65,000. In a week or two we hope to start work on still another new Williamson theatre in Sydney—corner of George and Bathurst streets. That place will be almost as large as Her Majesty's in Melbourne, and will accommodate 2,250 people. [Another proposed theatre which did not come to fruition due to the war.]

—A Gigantic Concern.—

“Our total of theatres? Well, we shall hold four in the New South Wales capital, three in Melbourne, and one each in Adelaide, Brisbane, Auckland, Christchurch, and Wellington (those three in New Zealand we have on lease). Then there are a theatre in London, and our South African interests …

—Adelaide's Turn.—

“What are we going to do with the Adelaide Theatre Royal? Why, we are going to keep it pretty well always stocked. Your public will, of course, have a big say in that matter; but I will tell you our immediate prospects. You will be having the ‘Forty Thieves’ pantomime before long, and the ‘Revue’ show as well. That latter, by-the-way, is the biggest and most expensive attraction we have ever tackled. We not only propose to give Adelaide folk much more frequent treats, but we hope to run longer seasons. We shall linkup Adelaide much more closely with Melbourne, by alternating our attractions more frequently between the two capitals than has been possible in the past. You see, as this bigger and better theatre now stands, we shall have the chance to send you our bigger and more costly productions …

“The firm of Williamson hereby promises Adelaide not only a better theatre, but a higher standard and wider choice of attractions. Naturally, in return, we look for an equivalent extension of public encouragement.’

The Register (Adelaide), Saturday, 11 April 1914, p.5 [extracts], http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article58505574

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The Bulletin’s dramatic critic in Adelaide writes: The last generation seems to have had a sporting idea of fire-risks in theatres. The rebuilding of the Royal (last reconstructed in 1878) has brought to light all kinds of stuff that was fair flame-food. The old idea seems to have been to put up a framework of timber, line it with match-board, and pad that with hessian. Out of the dome have come down hundreds of cartloads of inflammable material, just under which was hung the great chandelier that—all the years before electricity came in-—gave out so intense a heat. Dress-circle Adelaide knew that it got to and from its seats by a wooden staircase, passing above a liquor-bar, but it did not know what a bonfire it was going to have a front seat in if anything went wrong. However, nothing did. Herbert Myers—local manager for the Williamson Co.—points with pride to the vast quantities of marble stairs, and steel beams, and fibrous-plaster ornamentation that are to minimise risk in the new building. The old Academy of Music, dating from about the same time as the Royal, was burnt down twice in the ’80s; and then they got tired of rebuilding it.

The Bulletin (Sydney), Vol. 35, No. 1781—2 April 1914, p.9—Poverty Point

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Herbert Myers

State Library of South Australia, Adelaide

George Tallis, c.1915. Photo by Lafayette.

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Given the smaller population of Adelaide in comparison to the Eastern state capitals of Sydney and Melbourne and consequently the city’s proportionally smaller number of regular theatregoers, the J.C. Williamson productions staged in the South Australian capital were given limited run seasons and, to make such seasons financially viable in terms of the production costs involved (which included the transportation of scenery, costumes, properties and the company members themselves, which sometimes included principal orchestral players, with local musicians “picked up” in the host city) there would be two or more productions staged in repertory by each company sent on the “road.” Thus, in addition to High Jinks, the New English Musical Comedy Company also toured its earlier success The Girl in the Taxi, which would also be making its South Australian debut. The Adelaide press had already primed it readers with news of the success that the company had enjoyed during its respective theatrical seasons in Sydney and Melbourne since August 1914 and it now reported the imminent arrival of the company in the Southern state, whose residents could at last see for themselves those musicals which had so entertained the Easterners (taking care also to emphasise the success that The Girl… had enjoyed in London and New York; and also drawing a comparison between High Jinks and The Belle of New York, which, prior to the success of the former, had been the most successful American musical to be staged in Australia up to that date—Australian tastes at the time tending to prefer British musical comedies and Anglicised European operettas and comic operas. Indeed a revival of The Belle… had also been initially advertised for Adelaide, but it wasn’t until the company reached Perth that it was eventually staged.)

* * * * * * * * * * * *

J.C. WILLIAMSON SEASON.

“THE GIRL IN THE TAXI” AND “HIGH JINKS.”

“The Girl in the Taxi,” the next J. C Williamson musical offering for the Theatre Royal, will be presented next Saturday evening for six nights and a matinee. The occasion is one of special interest, since the principals will all make on this occasion their first appearance in Adelaide. Mr. C.H. Workman’s reputation as a comedian has already proceed him, while the company also includes Mr. W.H. Rawlins, Miss Millie Engler, Miss Gwen Hughes, Messrs. Fred Maguire, Hugh Huntley, Chris Wren, Paul Plunket, Miss Nellie Hobson, Miss Marie Eaton, Miss Daisy Yates, Miss Florence Vie, and Miss Dorothy Brunton. The score is by Jean Gilbert, whose catchy music largely contributed to the success of this famous musical comedy in London and New York, also in Melbourne and Sydney a few months back. The second and final production of the season will be devoted to what is described as the high kick of musical comedy, “High Jinks” with which the above company are now terminating a highly successful season in Melbourne. There are three acts in this play, which is of “The Belle of New York” type, and each of them is characterised by the same lighthearted irresponsibility, gaiety, and snap as “The Girl in the Taxi,” and it also furnishes scenes of musical frivolity and good humour, and provides a host of genuinely mirthful situations. “High Jinks” will be staged for six nights and matinee, commencing Saturday, May 29. The box plans for the season of 12 nights and two matinees will open at Marshalls’ next Tuesday morning at 9 o'clock...

W. H. Rawlins, who plays Baron Dauvray in “The Girl in the Taxi,” and Jeffreys, the lumber king, in “High Jinks,” relates that he was once appearing in drama, when the company had to put on a new play with but scant preparation. On the day of the opening the manager, who was also the producer as well as a member of the cast, pointed out that no one seemed to know their part at all well, and the only thing to do was to be prepared for emergencies. “ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “If I find things are too bad, I’ll come on with a pistol and kill everybody off.” “And this is what happened,” said Mr. Rawiins. “Half-way through the last act, after everybody had been floundering terribly, the ‘villain’ came on with a pistol, and pointing it at each of the principals, exclaimed. ‘Your time has come; now die!’ shooting them off, one after the other, and the curtain fell amidst loud applause.”

Field Fisher, who plays Dr. Robert Thorne in “High Jinks,” is another musical comedy artist who has graduated from drama. Years ago he strutted a brief time in a varied assortment of dramatic plays, including a production of “Charles I” by Sir Henry Irving, in which Mr. Fisher played a young prince. His varied roles also included a nihilist, a burglar, an old woman, an escaped convict, and others of a type which, as Mr. Fisher says, made his stage life a series of ups and downs. “They are mostly bad people I played in those dramas of my early stage career,” says Mr. Fisher. “My list of stage convictions was so long that i would have required to be a Methuselah to have served the sentences.”

“I am very glad to be playing a part in which I am allowed to laugh,” said Field Fisher, who is playing a mercurial doctor in “High Jinks.” “In ‘The Girl in the Taxi,’ as the waiter Alexis, I had to keep a stiff face the whole of the evening and to resist the temptation to laugh. It was a perpetual strain. In ‘High Jinks’ I can give my face as much exercise as I like. It nearly knocked me silly sometimes when one or two of the artists would try to make me laugh. They only caught me once!”

Playgoers who have seen Dorothy Brunton in musical comedy—and they are innumerable—have oftentimes marvelled at the deft little dramatic touches she puts into her work. Notably this was a characteristic of her acting in “Autumn Manoeuvres,” particularly in the scene with her father, in the course of which she made one of her biggest successes with her song “Daddy Dear.” Miss Brunton gained her knowledge of dramatic values from her early experiences in drama. Her early training was with Mr. and Mrs. Bland Holt, playing child parts. She was “Little Dorothy Brunton” then. Her first prominent part in drama was Stephanus in “The Sign of the Cross” with the Julius Knight Company.

The Mail (Adelaide), Saturday. 15 May 1915, p.6 [extracts], http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article59297192

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As mentioned in the article, the various cast changes for the Adelaide season included English actress, Daisy Yates taking over the role of “Mdlle. Chi-Chi” from Gertrude Glyn in High Jinks, with Chi-Chi’s Act 3 song “The Bubble” now reassigned to Dorothy Brunton, who, as “Sylvia Dale”, had hitherto only been an ‘onlooker’ to the farcical complications that ensued in the concluding Act, without making any further significant contribution to the plot (as the Sydney and Melbourne reviews of the show had previously noted.) As a compensation for the loss of the song, however, Daisy performed a dance duet “The Grand Vitesse” with her “brother”, Sydney Yates in the third Act’s cabaret scene in the place of Vlasta Novotna and Victor Lauschmann, whose dancing had been a feature of the Sydney and Melbourne seasons. The Yates also danced the tango in the second Act of The Girl in the Taxi previously assigned to Novotna and Laushmann. (Although Sydney had performed in Australia in previous years, Daisy was making her Antipodean debut and both were engaged by JCW in South Africa to join the company for the musical comedy season in Adelaide, where they had arrived by ship in early May. The pair were, in fact, unrelated but performed together as a ‘brother and sister’ dance duo—their actual names being Ellen Maingay Daniels and Sydney Culverhouse.)

And with the retirement of English leading lady, Maggie Jarvis from the stage in December 1914 to settle down to married life as Mrs. Thomas Reynolds in Melbourne, Dorothy Brunton was promoted to the female lead role in The Girl in the Taxi, having previously played the daughter of the Dauvray household, “Jacqueline”, in Sydney and Melbourne (a role now played by local actress, Cecil Bradley.) Additionally Alfred Frith was now cast as “Professor Charcot” in place of D.J. Williams, who had enacted the role in the original Sydney and Melbourne seasons of The Girl … Andrew McCunn also came over from Sydney to conduct the orchestra and supervise the musical side of both productions.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Photo montage of the company members including a full-length portrait of Daisy Yates

The Critic (Adelaide), 12 March 1915, p.23

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Critical reaction to Charles Workman’s performance in High Jinks in both Sydney and Melbourne had tended to be mixed. Although his acting ability and the undoubted quality of his singing were never in question, such reservations that were expressed were mainly in relation to the casting of the middle-aged comedian in the relatively straight role of what was essentially the musical’s juvenile romantic lead. Consciously aware of this, Workman (who had celebrated his 43rd birthday in Melbourne on 5 May) preceded his Adelaide debut by directly addressing the matter in the press.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

At The Play

MR. WORKMAN.

“One or two of the papers seemed to accept my part as a ‘straight’ one, and referred to me as playing the lover,” said C.H. Workman, discussing his role of Dick Wayne in ‘High Jinks,’ at Her Majesty's, Melbourne. “It wouldn't be the first time I have played other than a character part,” added Mr. Workman, “yet because I made my first appearance as Pomarel, in ‘The Girl in the Taxi,’ which is to open at the Theatre Royal next Saturday week, everyone expects me to stick to that type of part. For example, the other day I was introduced to a man who, after referring eulogistically to ‘High Jinks,’ remarked, ‘But why, Mr. Workman, have they given you Romeo to play, balcony scene and all?’ Dick Wayne is certainly something of a stage lover, but the part has a certain amount of sentiment, and I enjoy playing it. The only fly in the ointment, as it appears to me, is that in this country if they see you in one type of part, they expect you to stick to it all the way through.”

The Critic (Adelaide), Wednesday, 12 May 1915, p.10, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article212160489

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Although Workman had only briefly visited Adelaide before, during the RMS Orontes’ stopover there on Saturday, 25 July 1914, en route to Melbourne and Sydney on its voyage out from England, his presence in Australia had been a regular item of interest noted in the theatrical columns of the South Australian press, which had published the following anecdote the previous January.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

By Gum!

Mr. C.H. Workman, the well-known comedian, tells an amusing story of his young days.

A fancy-dress bicycle gymkhana was organised in aid of some local charity, and Mr. Workman attended dressed as a young lady, to the great scandal of some of his friends. He had a very busy day collecting for the fund, and among other places he entered was a small country inn.  Here an animated discussion arose as to whether the fair collector was a boy or a girl.

An old chap presently came up to him. “Will ’ee ’ave a drink, miss?” he asked.

“I don't mind if I do!” was the cordial reply of the “miss.”

A tankard of ale was brought, and, forgetting everything except the thirst that consumed him, he drained it at a draught.

“Well,” said the old man respectfully, “I dunno if thee be a lass or a lad, but, by gum, thee can soop ale!”

Border Watch (Mount Gambier, SA), Saturday, 30 January 1915, p.5

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Press agents continued to furnish the local press with anecdotes related by the company members prior to their arrival in Adelaide.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

MUSIC AND THE DRAMA

FROM STAGE AND PLATFORM

SOME PASSING NOTES.

Field Fisher, the English comedian with “The Girl in the Taxi,” made one of his early appearances in drama with the late Lawrence Irving. In one of his plays he was cast as a Nihilist. “I don't want you to wear a wig,” said Mr. Irving, “I want the real thing. Let your hair grow long.” When the hair grew down over his ears the actor found it a bit of a nuisance, especially when he attracted the attention of small boys, who publicly advised him to “get his hair cut.” The result was that Mr. Fisher approached Mr. Irving and told him that he was going to throw up the part and pay a visit to the barber. An extra £2 per week, however, made the actor change his mind and keep his hair on. “But it was worth it—and more,” says Mr. Fisher.

* * * * * *

“I seem to be paying the penalty of success, as Bumerli in ‘The Chocolate Soldier,’ ” said Mr. C.H. Workman, who created the role in London, and is to feature in the cast of “The Girl in the Taxi” at the Theatre Royal. “Every mail brings me heaps of letters, the gist of which is the query, ‘Will you play Bumerli in “The Chocolate Soldier” in Australia?’ I had no sooner set foot in Australia than an interviewer asked me that question. I replied that I was here to play my original part of Pomarel in ‘The Girl in the Taxi.’ ‘Yes,’ said the interviewer, but couldn't that play be put off to enable you to appear first in “The Chocolate Soldier”?’ And so it goes on,” added Mr. Workman. “I just want to forget that I once was Bumerli, because I like my part of Pomarel very much, and I want the public to like me as Pomarel.”

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Saturday, 8 May 1915, p.8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134407873

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The Girl in the Taxi was the first ‘cab off the rank’ opening at the Theatre Royal, Adelaide on 22 May 1915, and the audience reaction and critical opinion of the musical comedy mirrored that of its prior Sydney and Melbourne seasons.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“THE GIRL IN THE TAXI”

WILLIAMSON COMPANY'S COMEDY TRIUMPH

BRILLIANT OPENING PERFORMANCE

Very useful are comparisons even if there are occasions on which they happen to be odious. During the last few years theatregoers have had ample opportunities of comparing the various classes of comic opera as presented by Viennese, Parisian, and American composers. They could, therefore, with some degree of correctness size up the relative merits of the best of those which have been staged in Adelaide, and the very latest of the species, “The Girl in the Taxi,” which was presented at the Theatre Royal for the first time on Saturday night. Had one averaged public opinion he would doubtless have found a general belief that "The Girl in the Taxi" was the best example of musical comedy seen here since the famous “Merry Widow.” It certainly sparkled where most of the others have merely glimmered in patches, and in humor, music, and plot was as far above them as was that other well-known work which made Franz Lehar's reputation. Handled by a remarkably clever, well-balanced, and versatile company, and assisted by a very competent orchestra, it was a most agreeable and lighthearted entertainment, and was given a wonderfully cordial reception from an audience which filled the theatre to overflowing.

“The Girl in the Taxi” is French—decidedly so. One does not find in it a moral lesson or sentimental plot, but an abundance of espierglerie, vivacity, and musical frivolity which pleases the fancy, captivates the eyesight, and sets one at good terms with oneself. There is a spice of naughtiness to add that piquancy which most playgoers appreciate, and a multitude of farcical situations which supply unending action and keep the machinery of the plot moving with that swiftness so necessary to the success of musical comedy. Above all, it is light. Call it an iridescent bubble on the surface of events and you have a fairly accurate description of what the production really is.

The name of the piece is quite misleading. There is no girl in a taxi to be seen, and only once is her existence hinted at. But, after all, that doesn't matter a little bit. If some other title—"A Night in a Joy Club,” for instance—were chosen it would be all the same. The aim of the librettists was to create a family mix-up in which a father, son, daughter, and nephew meet unexpectedly at the same night-club and in circumstances of peculiar embarrassment. Without any straining of possibilities the play works itself out to this end, twisting amid scenes of riotous gaiety and ludicrous perplexity, and finally unravelling itself in a whirl of action chockfull of the brightest humor. It is quite a simple story, but its embellishment is gorgeous, and scintillating wit and lilting melodies make the whole production a thing to remember with pleasure. To follow the plot one must first know the Baron Dauvray, his wife, his son Hubert, and daughter Jacqueline, and Rene, who is a nephew of the baron and an officer in the army of France. Others with whom one must form an acquaintance are Monsieur Pomeral, a wealthy provincial scent manufacturer, his wife Suzanne, who is surpassingly pretty and has been awarded a prize for virtue, and Rose Charcot, wife of a professor who at times pervades the company. Dauvray is in public life a companion of Pecksniff and Sir Joseph Porter. In private life—that is to say, when the nightclubs are open and his wife is safely asleep in bed—he is a gay dog—in fact, a “knut”. He has a pet theory, heredity, and in his Porteresque moments inflicts on all and sundry such sentiments as “If a cat has kittens in the oven, must her progeny be called ‘bis-kitts’?” or “Train up the pea in the way it should grow,” &c, Hubert wants to be a “knut,” but can't do it on his allowance of 5/- per week. Jacqueline also wants to sample the high life, but her mother won't let her.  Rene, in love with Jacqueline, is a most pronounced “knut,” who when he announces his ardor is informed by the baron with true Pecksniffian egotism. “My children are my garden, and I want no weeds in it.” “No,” replies Rene, “but perhaps you require a rake.” The first act gives opportunities for introducing the characters and it closes with the Baron, Hubert, Rene, and Jacqueline stealing off separately to spend the rest of the night amid the giddy gaieties of the "Jeunesse Doree." Act two shows us the interior of the “Jeunesse Doree.” Hubert arrives and meets Suzanne, whose husband has gone off to take part in military manoeuvres. She arranges for supper, teaches him the gentle art of flirtation, and generally helps him to a good time. Next comes the Baron with Rose Charcot. It appears they met quite accidentally. He was getting in at one door of a taxi, she at the other. “My taxi, I believe,” said the Baron. “Mine, I think,” replied Rose, and in his most polished Don Juanesque manner Dauvray added, “Ours, I hope”; and “ours” it was. Follow Rene and Jacqueline, who, like the others, are shown to their private rooms. There is music and dancing, and abundance of mirth and merriment, and pretty but scantily dressed girls. The principals appear in humorous sequence, and finally there is the denouement when all come face to face. Among them even Charcot and Pomarel, who had also made the “Jeunesse Doree” their rendezvous. The only thing is that the two last mentioned, though finding their wives at the restaurant, do not know who took them there. Then comes act three, and the venue is transferred back to Dauvray’s dining room, where the parties assemble for breakfast. It is in this scene that the great bulk of the humor is packed, and without exaggeration it may be said that the audience on Saturday night fairly shrieked with laughter from end to end of it. The dialogue sparkles with the funniest passages, the appearance of the head waiter of the “Jeunesse Doree”—who has been engaged as butler by the baroness—frightens the delinquents into the most screamingly ridiculous situations, and the aggrieved husbands pay early visits to the establishment and have their doubts explained away in a fashion that can only be described as the most delightful farce. In this fashion everything Is straightened out and there is the usual happy ending.

Act 2—The Jenuesse Doree. Photo by Monte Luke. The Australasian (Melbourne) 24 October 1914, p.vi

The J. C. Williamson company which presents “The Girl in the Taxi” is the main factor in a triumphantly successful production. Few of the principals have been seen in Adelaide before, but they came here with bright reputations, which one and all sustained. There is however, one artist whom we have known favorably for some time now. She is Miss Dorothy Brunton, who takes the part of Suzanne, the leading feminine role. Right here it can said that the J.C. Williamson management provides in the person of Miss Brunton an argument against the constant importation of oversea stars for “leads.” This charming little lady proved herself to be the cleverest and sweetest exponent of musical comedy that has delighted a South Australian audience for many a long day. Miss Brunton has everything to commend her to the liking of the theatregoer. Voice, looks, figure, and deportment combine to make her a “star of stars,” and it is safe to predict for her the brightest of futures. What a bewitching little Suzanne she made! With her husband (only stage, by the way) one could say that her marriage day was the fortunate male person's awfully lucky day. Mr. W.H. Rawlins was happily cast as Baron Dauvray, And his comedy characterisation was without a doubt one of the gems of the evening. His great fund of natural humor enabled him to do the fullest justice to the many mirthful situations with which he was connected, and he had no difficulty whatever in earning his full share of most hearty applause. As Hubert Mr. Fred. Maguire had to plenty to do, and he did it well. The picture he presented of the youth anxious to break parental bounds, and finally doing so after having pawned a family painting to provide himself with funds, was clever indeed, and his subsequent scenes with Suzanne proved him to be an artist in this particular line of comedy. Very fine and dashing was Mr. Paul Plunket as Rene, and really picturesque in his French uniform—which, it might be mentioned, was recognised and cheered. Into the character of the debonair man of the world Mr. Plunket imparted the proper amount of sprightliness and devilment, and generally carried himself off his part with a pleasing and convincing naturalness and grace. Mr. C.H. Workman made the most of the many opportunities for low comedy provided by the librettists in Pomarel, who adores and trusts Suzanne implicitly, even though she only allows him to kiss her shoulder, and reserves her more ardent amorousness for her supper partners at the “Jennesse Doree.” As the stolid head waiter of the giddy restaurant Mr. Field Fisher was particularly funny. Good work was done by Messrs. Alfred Frith (Professor Charcot), Chris Wren as the diminutive and acrobatic second waiter, and Hugh Huntley the third waiter. As for the ladies, they are somewhat overshadowed by Suzanne, but they were all attractive and accomplished. Miss Cecil Bradley made a charming Jacqueline, who was at her best in her rebellious breakaway from her fiance Rene when the latter thought she had seen enough of the “Jeuneese Doree.” In her portrayal of the Baroness Delphine Dauvray Miss Millie Engler gave a clever study of the stately dame and blindly devoted mother, and Miss Gwen Hughes was sufficiently piquant as Rose Charcot to justify the baron's decision to take her with him on a clandestine joyride. Miss Helen Hobson looked very pretty in the small part of Marietta, a housemaid.

Throughout the production there was a plenitude of beautiful music, wherein the art of Jean Gilbert in contriving melodies was seen at its best. Two numbers which doubtless appealed to the audience more than any others were the waltz song “Lilt That is Mazy”—really a delightful strain—and Miss Brunton’s closing item “Suzanne,” the latter a fine swinging refrain that should not be easily forgotten. Other contributions to the musical side were the opening ensemble, “Dearest Baronne,” “The Ingenue” (Miss Cecil Bradley), “As Good as I Can Be” (Mr. W. H. Rawlins), “Sauce for the Gander” (Miss Bradley and Mr. Plunket), “The Happy Marriage” (Miss Brunton and Mr. Workman), “Paris” (Miss Brunton and Messrs. Plunket and Maguire), “Not Too Fast and Not Too Slow” (Miss Brunton and Mr. Maguire) ensemble, “Why, Jacqueline, How Came You Here” (Misses Brunton and Bradley, and Messrs. Rawlins. Plunket, and Maguire), “The Old Dog and the Young Dog” (Messrs. Rawlins and Maguire), and “Let the Toast go Round” (Miss Brunton). The chorus was strong and well balanced. An incidental item was a tango danced by Mr. and Miss Yates, which was responsible for one of the most persistent encores of the evening.

It would not be fair to pass over the gorgeous dressing or brilliant scenic effects without a word of commendation. Both these features were outstanding, and, indeed, quite eclipsed previous J.C. Williamson efforts, splendid though many of them have been. Some of the costumes worn by the ladies might be termed the “dernier cri” of Parisian fashion, especially that worn in the last act by Miss Given Hughes—divided petticoats, similar to the long-legged pantaloons of our great-grandmothers, being a conspicuous portion of the creation.

“The Girl in the Taxi” is to be staged throughout the week, including a matinee next Wednesday at 2 o’clock, and on Saturday next “High Jinks” will be presented for the remaining six nights and matinee. The season is limited to a fortnight only.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Monday, 24 May 1915, p.2, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134410573

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Born into the theatrical life in Melbourne, as the daughter of John Brunton (a chief scenic artist for actor-manager, Bland Holt and J.C. Williamson), Dorothy Brunton revealed some of the disadvantages of life on-the-road for the touring actress (which probably explained her absence from the company’s subsequent season in Perth.)

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INTERVIEW

FIVE MINUTES WITH MISS DOROTHY BRUNTON.

“Miss Brunton will see you this afternoon,” said Mr. Herbert Myers when he had arranged the interview by ’phone, so 2.30 found us waiting upon the lady at the South Australian Hotel. But pretty, vivacious little Dorothy Brunton was in bed waiting the arrival of the doctor. Still she had a little chat, in which her mother, Mrs. Brunton, largely assisted. Dorothy’s mother deserves a par all to herself, she is simply charming, so young and pretty you cannot credit she is Miss Brunton’s mother.

“How fortunate your mother is with you now?”

“Yes,” replied Miss Brunton, “I don't know what I should do without her. Since my father died five years ago she has always travelled with me.”

“The last time we were in Perth,” said Mrs. Brunton, “we had a cheerful experience to begin with. We are not good sailors, and I arrived there so ill I had to go straight to a hospital. Dorothy visited me the first three days, and she looked such a perfectly awful color I thought she was going to be ill. The next thing that happened was she had quinsy, and I had to leave the hospital to go and nurse her.”

“This is rather a doleful conversation,” remarked Miss Dorothy.

“How did you get this chill?”

“Coming over in the train,” explained Mrs. Brunton. “Unfortunately there were Parliamentary men on the train, and they had taken all the best carriages, consequently the sleepers we were in had no doors, and it was a bitterly cold draught blowing upon us the whole time, and Dorothy being run down it has evidently affected her. She was in such pain last night she could hardly stand.”

“And yet managed to look so full of fun and laughter. You had a very busy time before coming here?”

“Yes, I was going hard for some months rehearsing for our last new production, ‘The Girl in the Film.’  That and being fitted for frocks, shoes, hats, everything imaginable, does not leave a moment unoccupied. I have been going like that for three years now straight off, and Dr. Strong warned me in Melbourne that I would have to get in a rest somehow. But I love the work and feel I want to keep at it.”

“When did you first play in Adelaide?”

“In the ‘Count of Luxembourg’ and ‘The Chocolate Soldier’ and ‘Autumn Manoeuvres.’ I had such a nice compliment paid me in Melbourne before I left, one I appreciated very much. Mdlle. Dolores was staying at the same hotel and went to the theatre one night. The next morning she wrote me a charming note saying how much she had enjoyed my performance, and complimented me upon my singing—she is such a sweet woman —I would like you to see the letter.”

At this moment the arrival of the doctor brought our chat to an abrupt close, and we left with best wishes for a speedy recovery for the sake of the public as well as herself.

—"DRIA.”

The Critic (Adelaide), 26 May 1915, p.20, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page23529336

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Further insights into Charles Workman’s various interests and accomplishments were provided by the following interview conducted by the pseudonymous “Jacques” of the Adelaide Daily Herald.

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COMEDY AND CRIME

C. H. WORKMAN CLOSELY STUDIES BOTH

INTERESTING CHAT ON GILBERTIAN OPERA

(BY “JACQUES.”)

Interviewing a theatrical celebrity is not always pleasure unalloyed. One meets some with whom it is a pleasure to converse. Occasionally one meets the other sort, and the period of the interview is one of torture. I have experienced both kinds, and in the category first mentioned I want to place Mr. C.H. Workman the celebrated English comedian whose Pomarel in “The Girl in the Taxi” is something to remember with the greatest delight.

For an hour yesterday I chatted with him on divers subjects. Mr. Workman did most of the talking, and I was quite content to listen with the utmost interest for his lengthy experience in the mimic world has given him a store of theories, anecdotes, and reminiscences which would be a veritable treasure to him were he ever to embark on the sea of authorship. The conversation started with comparisons of the work of those master-minds, Gilbert and Sullivan, and present-day farce compositions, and gradually drifted along the most pleasant lines until I found myself engrossed in his stories of adventure in the underworld of London and Liverpool. This latter subject may seem strange when coming from one whose theatrical duties have never earned for him, as the “villain of the play,” the hisses of the hero-loving gallery. Mr. Workman has never departed from the genialities of musical comedy, but for all that be is a keen student of criminology, and has accompanied some of England’s most famous detectives on not a few daring adventures.

“I started my stage career in Gilbert and Sullivan opera,” said the artist in reply to a leading question. “It was in 1894 that I made my first appearance, curiously enough at the Shakespeare Theatre at Straford-on-Avon. The piece was ‘Utopia Limited.’ I think that I now hold a record which is unique, for I have played the leading comedy roles in every one of the operas written by the famous pair, with the one exception of ‘Ruddigore.’ ”

And your favorite part is?

“ ‘Jack Point,’ in ‘The Yeomen of the Guard.’ I always loved that part, and I think I must have done very well in it, for I had the honor of being paid a very high compliment by the late W.S. Gilbert. The occasion was at a dinner given by the Playgoers’ Club, London, after the last revival at the Savoy Theatre of ‘The Yeomen of the Guard.’ Gilbert was present, and among others were Grossmith, the original Jack Point, and Walter Passmore, who played the part in the first revival. I was Jack Point in the second revival. When the time came for speechmaking Gilbert had something to say about the performance. This was his actual remark: ‘I am sure that neither Workman’s protagonist, Grossmith, nor his immediate predecessor, Passmore, will grudge him the triumph he has achieved, as he played the part with exquisite charm and finish.’ I regard it as the highest compliment that I could have had paid me. Only the other day I came across that speech in a book which Bridgeman has written, entitled ‘Gilbert, Sullivan, D’Oyly Carte, and a History of the Savoy Theatre’.”

I gather that you are still true to your old love, and that you prefer the operas of your earlier associations?

“Yes, I love the old operas, and can truthfully say that I would like to have a go at them again. Much as I like the parts I am at present playing, I would dearly like to appear out here in such a role as Jack Point, the Lord Chancellor in ‘Iolanthe’ or even the King in ‘Princess Ida.’ ”

Then you must have found it difficult to break from the richer and more satirical humor of Gilbertian works into the extreme frivolity of the French farce?

“It might have been hard had I not had a good run in ‘The Chocolate Soldier,’ which, as you know, had a great run in London. From that to the character of Pomarel in ‘The Girl in the Taxi’, which piece ran for 13 months, was a sort of stepping stone. Still, Jack Point is a role in which there was never meant to be any low comedy, and the man who clowns all the way through it does wrong. The unfortunate jester, as Gilbert meant him to be, combines comedy, pathos, and tragedy, and in the latter reaches the sublime. There are always tears not far from his laughter. I must say that I have never portrayed a character who touched me to the same extent as does Jack Point. In that magnificent finale I have never had any need for vaseline tears, for I have finished with real tears streaming down my face. I remember one performance in Manchester at the close of which I took a call in this state, and there were plenty among my audience who were sobbing also.”

That indeed is real entry into the spirit of the part.

“Yes, and therein lies for me the charm of the stage. You go into a theatre and at once become a different person. Instead of thinking what you would do in the situations that are created you think what the character as outlined by the author would have done. I make it my business to get as close to life in my acting as I possibly can. In ‘The Grand Duke,’ one of Gilbert's productions, and his last [with Sullivan], as a matter of fact, I had to play the part of an old Jew clothier. Well, for weeks before the opera was staged I used every Sunday to dress in my oldest clothes and take a walk into the Jewish quarter down in Petticoat Lane. Soon I came across the very type of man I had to represent, and by studying closely every detail of his facial expression, his movements, and his garb I was able when the time came to present to my audience a character which was as true to life as it could possibly be.”

Charles Workman as ‘Ben Hashbaz’ in The Grand Duke,1896. Photo by Alfred Ellis.

Charles Workman with Lilian Coomber, 1906

Do you think such works as were produced by Gilbert and Sullivan will ever become as popular again as they were years ago?

“Not unless there arises a new Gilbert and a new Sullivan. Never were two men more fitted to collaborate, and never was there a greater misfortune than when they parted company. That break was a tragedy over a trifle if ever there was such a thing. You know, Gilbert, Sullivan, and Carte were running the Savoy on shares, each man taking an equal part. Gilbert was away on holiday, and during his absence the other partners decided to purchase a new carpet for the theatre. That in itself was only a trifling matter, but Gilbert thought he should have been consulted, and the argument that ensued led to the separation, it was most unfortunate for all. Gilbert wrote several operas after the split, but none of them was successful.”

You have undertaken management yourself, have you not?

“Yes, and whenever I feel inclined to grumble at my lot as an actor I force upon myself the reflection that I might be worse off as a manager. I went into management at the London Savoy and produced three musical plays—'Fallen Fairies,’ ‘The Mountaineers,’ and ‘Two Merry Monarchs.’ They left the Treasury £14,000 on the wrong side, for, although there was no doubt as to their excellence as plays, getting a success is a costly business in London.”

The reception accorded you by Australian audiences must have made you wish you could transport them to England for the benefit of managers?

“I agree with you. We certainly have had some magnificent audiences. Without a doubt Australians have a great liking for such plays as ‘The Girl in the Taxi’ and ‘High Jinks,’ and I am sure the people of Adelaide will enjoy the latter just as much as they did the other. It really is a splendid performance, and I can assure you that we all enjoy acting in it. The music is catchy, the dialogue snappy, and the situations even more funny than those in ‘The Girl in the Taxi.’ By the way, in ‘The Girl’ Miss Brunton is my wife, but in ‘High Jinks’ she is my sweetheart. Rather a staggerer such a change in relationship all in the short space of two nights, isn't it?”

Yes, it surely is. Theatregoers will envy you your good fortune.

“Who could blame them,” said Mr. Workman, laughingly. “By the way, Miss Brunton has in ‘High Jinks’ a most charming waltz refrain, which I know will please everybody.”

Than Adelaide theatregoers, there are no people in Australia more pleased with Miss Brunton’s great success, I added. And taking up the part of questioner again I sought some information as to how Mr. Workman occupied his time when not acting or rehearsing.

It was then that we drifted into the subject of criminology, and I learned of visits to the darkest of Liverpool’s criminal haunts with detectives who were seeking an absconding cashier; of the raiding of an illicit dancing hall in the underworld of London; and of talks in waterside haunts with men who mostly were “wanted” in some other part of the world. “We never went without being armed,” said Mr. Workman, “but not once were we attacked. Criminals of the lowest type, though many of the men with whom we came in contact might have been, they were content to let us alone so long as they knew that they were not wanted by the detectives who were on the job. What interesting studies those men provided. You have nothing like them out here but I must say you are very well off without them.”

In answer to a final question. Mr. Workman expressed his great admiration of the Australian chorus and ballet. These, he said, could not be bettered anywhere. And he has learned to love the Australian audiences even though, as he admitted, it is rather difficult for a stranger to become used to the different moods that prevail in the capitals of the eastern States.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Friday, 28 May 1915, p.2, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134411412

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The Girl in the Taxi was succeeded by High Jinks on Saturday, 29 May and the critical plaudits which had greeted the show in both Sydney and Melbourne were repeated in the Adelaide press, attesting to the musical’s popularity with both critics and audiences alike.

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“HIGH JINKS”

A SPLENDID PRODUCTION.

ANOTHER “ROYAL” SUCCESS

“MAIL’S” SPECIAL REPORT.

Only a few moments elapsed after the curtain was raised on “High Jinks” at the Theatre Royal this evening before Dick Wayne, an explorer. produced the marvellous perfume. Its effect was instantaneous not only on the artists on the stage, but on the great audience which entirely filled the building. This wonderful discovery had the power of transforming the most severe into happy, dull-free beings, and of infusing into the cold blooded the most amorous of feelings; in a word, the blues were danced clean away. Even when Dr. Robert Thorne, an American specialist in Paris, was faced with death or the option of Mons. Jacques Rabelais kissing his wife, and when he ought to have felt sad, under the spell of the great scent he was blithe and gay. So was the public, and the musical jollity in three acts can be heartily recommended as an exceedingly mirth-creating production. Everybody present was wound up, and happiness and laughter reigned unchallenged.

Many attractions combined to make “High Jinks” an undoubted success— the extraordinarily complicated situations, the high-class performers, the elaborate settings, the pretty dresses, the attractive choruses, and last, but not least, the sparkling music...

Mr. Field Fisher took the character of Dr. Thorne, and he was one of the first to come under the spell of “High Jinks” perfume. Instead of curt, impolite, and unaffectionate replies to Mrs. Thorne he lavishes kisses on her and other people's wives. The result is he has to make a hurried departure to Beauville, a bathing resort on the French coast, in an attempt to avoid a duel. His enemy, the Frenchman, his wife, and everyone else eventually meet there, and the jinks become higher than ever. Miss Florence Vie as Adelaide Fontaine, a runaway wife, had a heavy part, but she did not appear at any time to be downhearted on account of her loss. She was delightfully ingenue throughout, and especially at Beauville, where Dr. Thorne was paying all the bills. The duet with W.H. Rawlins. “Come Hither,” proved particularly attractive. Paul Plunket. as the Frenchman, was a great success, and his association with Dorothy Brunton in a duet, “Not Now, but Later” was most heartily encored. W.H. Rawlins as Mr. J.J. Jeffeys. an American lumber king, caused many laughs. His repudiation of the idea that he was the champion boxer raised a scream every time. Mr. Alfred Frith as Colonel Slaughter acted right up to his first-class comedy reputation. Dorothy Brunton as Sylvia Dale was not afforded many opportunities, but her songs, “Is This Love at Last?'' and “By the Sea” were among the best selections. Miss Daisy Yates as Mlle. Chi Chi, sang as beautifully as she danced.  In the last scene she and her brother gave the Grand Vitesse, a wonderful whirlwind dance, which was encored three times. The other artists fully sustained their roles, and greatly contributed to the enjoyment of the performance.

“High Jinks” will be presented every evening until Friday, and on Wednesday afternoon there will be a matinee.

The Mail (Adelaide), Saturday, 29 May 1915, p.7 [extracts], http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article59299040

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 AMUSEMENTS.

“High Jinks”

The audience which assembled in the Adelaide Theatre Royal on Saturday night to welcome that musical jollity. “High Jinks,” was from a managerial stand-point an absolute record. Every inch of standing room allowed by the law with all the seating accommodation was fully occupied, and what was equally as important so far as the company was concerned, the greeting accorded to each item of the performance was both appreciative and enthusiastic. “The Girl in the Taxi” was a very great success, but the Williamson New English Musical Comedy Company excelled both it and themselves in “High Jinks,” and it is certain that the remaining nights of their all-too-short season will be abundantly successful, This is the more gratifying because the Australian element in the case has been greatly strengthened, for, in addition to the dainty charm of Miss Dorothy Brunton, we have in this second attraction that accomplished Adelaide singer, Miss Marie Eaton, whose beautiful voice was heard to great advantage in the chief musical numbers, and our old friend, Miss Florence Vie, whose skill as a comedienne has won her a high reputation throughout the Commonwealth. “High Jinks” has a subtle charm which captivated the theatregoers of London when it was originally presented at the Lyric Theatre there last year [sic—it did not receive its London premiere until 1916 at the Adelphi Theatre], and which since it was first produced in Australia has won it immense success in all the cities where it has been seen. The people of Adelaide have placed the seal of their approval on the verdict of Melbourne and Sydney, and probably most of those lucky persons who saw the spirited performance on Saturday night will take other opportunities of refreshing their pleasant memories concerning the musical comedy before the season ends on Friday night.

There are three acts, each of which is more hilarious than that which preceded it. The first is a pretty setting representing the sanatorium of Dr. Thorne, near Paris, with a handsome residence on one side, a surgery on the other, court yard with a stone wall and iron gate in the centre, and distant view of Paris in the background, in which the outline of the Eiffel Tower is a conspicuous feature. The second and third acts are at Beauville, a fashionable bathing-place, with the Hotel du Pavilion exterior, and a vast expanse of esplanade terrace, and azure sea to begin with, and afterwards the warmth and luxury of electric lights and a throng of banqueters and night birds.  The principals move about in the various scenes amid a kaleidoscopic chorus composed, as the theme of song or action suggests, of nurses, housemaids, seaside strollers, French shop girls, cabaret dancers, fashionable promenaders, gaily-apparelled guests, bathing parties, waiters, and other bright beings, all of whom are attired in picturesque costumes harmonising most artistically with the general color scheme. The plot of the story is a mere secondary consideration...

The fun begins very early, and it remains until after the final curtain fall, for three times the delighted audience insisted upon the curtain being raised again, so that they might see the company marching past in review order, to the lilting music of "High Jinks,” and the last time, the curtain being only knee-high, the vision was of many twinkling feet, with such upward continuations as served to identify sex and character. Miss Dorothy Brunton was even more alluring and gladsome than in the previous comedy.  Her dresses were dreams of prettiness, and her singing, dancing, acting, and speeches were all so many additional embellishments to her natural charm. There was a sentimental seriousness about her first ballad, “Is This Love to Last?” but there was a sprightlier note in “By the Sea” and a rollicking lightness in “Not Now, but Later,” while in “The Bubble,” illustrated by toy balloons which sailed right up to the dome of the theatre, the serious note returned. Miss Marie Eaton’s rich and beautiful voice was always enjoyable, whether in “Dancing the Blues Away,” in the opening act, or in the richer melodies of “Sammy Sang the Marseillaise,” with the martial splendor of the French national air ringing through the chorus. It was in her ragtime-operatic number, however, with Messrs. Workman and Maguire as the Mephistopheles and Faust, that Miss Eaton soared to her most magnificent heights, and the tumultuous applause which followed brought about a double repetition of the scena. Seldom in musical comedy is so effective a rendering given of such full and lustrous harmonies. Miss Florence Vie had several catchy songs to give, in which she did herself full justice, but her chief mission was of “the liberty, love, and laughter” brand. She had the principal comedy part, and she rose to the requirements of the situation with consummate skill. She received a cordial greeting on her initial entrance, and she kept the merriment on the boil wherever she went. Her acting and her speech were equally mirth-provoking, and she was always a welcome figure, a leader and an expert exponent in any of the revelries. Miss Daisy Yates was not only well placed in her part as Mlle. Chi Chi, but, with Mr. Sydney Yates, she danced the “Grand Vitesse” in such an exhilarating fashion that it had to be given three times before the performance was allowed to proceed. Misses Gwen Hughes, Nellie Hobson, and Cecil Bradley were good in less important roles. Mr. Workman, as Dick Wayne, the purveyor of the wondrous perfume, was a gay and giddy personage, but principal comedian on Saturday evening was Mr. Rawlins, as the humorous American lumber king, who was brimming over with clever sayings and who always had the risible faculties of the audience in operation. All he did and said was so much rich cream, and his speech at the banquet of reunion with wife and child was a masterpiece of heterogeneous cleverness. “Laughter holding both his sides” followed his drolleries and whimsicalities throughout. Mr. Field Fisher (the American specialist), Mr. Alfred Frith (Colonel Slaughter), Mr. Paul Plunket, as the irascible Frenchman, and Mr. Fred. Maguire all sang and acted well, and Mr. Chris. Wren was a typical garcon. The chorus, in their dancing, singing, and complicated evolutions, were invariably equal to the demands made upon them, while the scenery and lighting effects were all that could be desired.

“High Jinks” will be repeated each evening of the week and at a matinee on Wednesday, and on Saturday evening next the favorite actress Miss Nellie Stewart will appear in Beiasco's romantic historical play, “Du Barry.”

Express and Telegraph (Adelaide), Monday, 31 May 1915, p.3 [extracts], http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article209988281

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The company poses for the Act 2 Finale: “We’re Sorry to Detain You”, while Dorothy Brunton (fourth from right) examines her hemline! Photo by Monte Luke. Punch (Melbourne), 25 March 1915, p.419.

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“HIGH JINKS”

TREMENDOUS “HIT” AT THEATRE ROYAL

ANOTHER SUCCESS FOR WILLIAMSON COMPANY.

How unfortunate it is that some things can only happen in plays. Were it otherwise we could all have a sniff of the “High Jinks” perfume, and then—hey presto! Gone would be care and troubles, debts, and duns, aches and pains, and the whole mass of the worries to which man is heir. A few drops of the wonderful essence sprinkled on the Kaiser might even be the means of ending the war, for he could not be filled with a desire to laugh, dance, and be merry and still retain a demeanor compatible with that of “The All-Highest War Lord.” However, Dick Wayne is only a creature of a playwright's fertile brain, and the wonderful “High Jinks” perfume which he dispenses is but another of those elixirs for which the world has sought, and will-ever seek in vain. The only thing, then, to be done is to do as did the crowd which packed every available space in the Theatre Royal on Saturday evening, and get the benefit of three hours of the infectious frivolity which the “High Jinks” company radiates over the footlights...

The characters of the piece dance joyously through three acts of sparkling comedy, from the more or less sedate exterior of a nerve specialist's surgery to the promenade of the “Hotel du Pavillion,” Beauville, where, in very truth, it may be said that the jinks are of the highest. And this time the audience is immersed in a mass of harmony—a harmony made out of a number of scintillating and irresponsible details, but nevertheless a harmony that caught hold and gripped, and that will make “High Jinks” remembered as the most excellent example of the French musical farce ever seen in Adelaide …

The third act is the most handsomely staged and decorative of any. It is lit with lamps, adorned with shimmering evening dresses, interspersed with music of the liveliest description, and there is some remarkably clever dancing, in which Mr. and Miss Yates and Mr. Jack Hooper share the honors …

Of course the curtain falls with the whole tangled skein unravelled to the satisfaction of all, and a hilarious “High Jinks” finale sends the audience away laughing heartily and abundantly satisfied.

Of course, if “High Jinks” were not properly handled it might degenerate into a stupid kind of a show, but the Williamson Company which has it in hand swings it along with just the briskness of action and abandon which it demands. The individual members appear to splendid advantage, but those who stand out most prominently are Mr. W.H. Rawlins as Jeffreys the Manila lumber king, Florence Vie as Adelaide Fontaine, and Mr. Field-Fisher as Dr. Thorne. They each have magnificent opportunities for low comedy work and certainly make the most of them. Mr. Rawlins was just as clever as ever. His part was rich in that humor which he is such an adept at portraying, and nothing could have been funnier than his speech at the banquet in which he mixed up his thoughts as a happy husband and the stock remarks of a company director, or his annoyance with people who would confound him with “our former pugilistic champion.” Really it was a great performance. Miss Vie came through with flying colors. She was large, cheerful, and breezy, and her songs were given in the brightest possible fashion. The stage was lively all the time she had it, and especially so during her singing of “the Dixiana Rise” with full chorus, and the duet with Mr. Rawlins, “Come Hither.” Mr. Fisher did exceptionally well as Dr. Thorne. It was the first time Adelaide audiences had seen him in his proper sphere, and the applause which followed was proof of the predilection which they at once conceived for him. As Sylvia Dale, Miss Dorothy Brunton did not have the opportunities which were hers in '”The Girl in the Taxi,” but for all that she was just as charming and sweet as in that piece. One of her numbers, the waltz-song of the play, “Is this Love at Last?” was quite the hit of the evening, and her clear soprano was admirably suited to the vivacious “By The Sea.” Other items for which she received ovations were the duet with Mr. Plunket, “Not Now, But Later,” and a pretty ballad “The Bubble” in which the effect was heightened by the loosing of large, ruby-colored balloons which floated ceiling wards. Miss Marie Eaton did justice to herself as Mrs. Thorne. She also had a fine singing part, and her songs were well suited to her splendid voice. Especially good was her rendition of the ragtime numbers “Dancing the Blues Away” and “Sammy Sang the Marseillaise,” and in the burlesque of the prison scene from “Faust” with Mr. C.H. Workman and Fred. Maguire, she helped to successfully travesty grand opera in a manner that was very clever, for while the parody was conducted on the most humorous lines, the musical “theme” was retained throughout. Though Mr. C.H. Workman was quietly cast as Dick Wayne he nevertheless scored very heavily in the “High Jinks” number, and gave a proper conception of the lover at times in the seventh heaven of delight, and at others plunged into an abyss of despair. Mr. Paul Plunket, as the would-be duellist husband, Mons. Rabelais; Mr. Alfred Frith, as Colonel Slaughter; Miss Yates, as Chi-Chi; Miss Cecil Bradley, as a page boy; and Miss Gwen. Hughes, as the pretty nurse at Dr. Thorne’s studio, were artists who capably assisted towards the general success of the performance.

The play was produced by Mr. Harry B. Burcher, to whom much credit is due for the triumph scored, and a word of praise is due to Miss Minnie Hooper for the many pretty dances she arranged. The scenery from the brush of Messrs. Board and Little was strikingly fine, and a capable orchestra under the baton of Mr. Andrew McCunn was a pleasure to the audience, and an assistance to the performers.

“High Jinks” will run until Friday next when way will then be made for Miss Nellie Stewart’s company. There will be a matinee on Wednesday.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Monday, 31 May 1915, p.2, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134411810

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Charles Workman & Dorothy Brunton. Photo by Monte Luke.

Dorothy Brunton. Photo by Monte Luke.

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ENTERTAINMENTS

“HIGH JINK.”

There will be a matinee of “High Jinks” at the Theatre Royal at 2 p.m. to-day. The popularity of “High Jinks” exceeds that of “The Girl in the Taxi,” which fact amply testifies to the merit of this latest production by the J.C. Williamson, Ltd., new English musical comedy company. Overflowing audiences have been in attendance nightly, yet despite its record-breaking propensities this magnificent production must be withdrawn on Friday night to make way for the Nellie Stewart attraction which had been pre-arranged for. Mr. Charles Workman, who reappeared last night, has now thoroughly recovered from the indisposition which necessitated his being absent on Monday night, and his clever work in the part of Dr. Wayne, together with that of W.H. Rawlins as Jeffreys, out rivals their respective parts in the previous production. Miss Dorothy Brunton looks prettier than ever, and her charming manner, delightful personality, clever singing, and dancing are items alone which would make for success in less worthy musical plays. Field Fisher and Alfred Frith also have greater scope than formerly, and in addition the cast has been added to by the inclusion of Florence Vie and Marie Eaton. Those who have not already witnessed “High Jinks” are advised to book at Marshalls', as three of the biggest houses yet known to the theatre are confidently expected. The company will sail for Perth on Saturday, and may possibly play a return season with other new pieces when passing through to Melbourne.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Wednesday, 2 June 1915, p.2, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134412195

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SUNDRY SHOWS

A week of “High Jinks” at Adelaide Royal leaves a usually unenthusiastic critic bubbling with enthusiasm. The waltz and the scent motive, coming in again and again, are highly effective; the dancing of the joyous young Australian chorus has a careless swing that captivates; and the acting is simply brilliant, without the buffoonery generally “starred” in musical comedy.  Workman has been ill, but a young [Harry] Wotton took his place neatly. Rawlins is an artist. Field Fisher one would like to see in a [George] Grossmith part. And then Plunket and Frith and Maguire brisk up the show whenever they come in. Dorothy Brunton has now fully “arrived.” Florence Vie and Marie Eaton came in for this play, leaving a lot of clever girls to small parts. Business has been big, and is likely to remain so for Nellie Stewart, strongly supported, in “Du Barry.”

The Bulletin (Sydney), 10 June 1915, p.9

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Meanwhile “Jacques” of The Daily Herald turned the spotlight on the work of the musical’s producer, Harry Burcher and stage manager, Redge Carey (who, as the son of actor-manager George P. Carey, had commenced his stage career playing juvenile roles in JCW productions in the early 1900s, before taking up a position behind-the-scenes.)

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FROM BEHIND

“HIGH JINKS” WATCHED FROM NEW ANGLE

HOW A PIECE IS PRODUCED

(By “Jacques”)

Let me take you to stageland. It will have to be a kind of a spirit voyage, with my description supplying the necessary picture of all that may be seen from that mysterious spot, the prompter’s corner. There is, of course, the possibility that while I say there were moments when I stood a solitary male in the midst of a gay, chattering, laughing cluster of the pretty girls who form the famous Williamson choruses you will scarcely derive the same satisfaction from the telling as you would from the real thing. Ah, well, we can’t all be lucky. Console yourself with my assurance that it was all most delightful. Much as I enjoyed “High Jinks” from the front on Saturday night, I enjoyed it none the less from the “back” one evening this week. One’s position does not matter so long as an uninterrupted view of the happy situation created by the “High Jinks” perfume is obtainable.

In Charge of Experts.

My guides were Mr. Harry Burcher and Mr. Redge Carey, producer and stage manager respectively of the musical farce which has set Adelaide’s feet a dancing with the lilting strains of the “High Jinks” song. I could not have been in better hands, for in the company of these two leaders I could watch the wonderful evolution from a chaotic mass of scenery of a beautiful seaside scene and the handsome exterior of the gay Hotel du Pavillion, and at the same time learn something of the unfailing attention to the minutest details that is absolutely essential to he successful production of a piece. For the benefit of those who are accompanying me on this tour of stageland let me compare Mr. Burcher to the generalissimo of an army, and Mr. Carey to his chief of staff. The one draws up the plan on which the play must be presented to the public; the other sees that the rank and file do their part towards making the thing a success, that the stage dressing makes up a picture which will be in keeping with the spirit of the performance, and that the myriad mortals whom we never see, the stage attendants, carry out their work swiftly, methodically, and accurately. Nothing must be left to chance. If a performer has to hand another a bill, or a roll of banknotes, or a phial of perfume it is the stage manager who must see that these “properties” are at hand when they are wanted. He is here, there, everywhere. Now in the prompter's corner keeping his eye on the “book,” now issuing instructions to the limelight operators, now hustling the chorus and generally keeping things moving. He is about the only man on the stage who has to work hard the whole evening, and I was by no means surprised when Mr. Carey observed to me, “This job is worth a thousand a year.” After watching him for a couple of acts I could quite believe it.

Enthusiasm Reigns.

The man in the street firmly believes that from the “wings” a performance loses all the attractions it presents to the front of the house, and that it fails to overcome in those whose duties are “behind the scenes” an apathy born of familiarity. Perhaps these premises are right in certain cases, but I must say that it was not so the other night.  It may have been because the J.C. Williamson firm tolerates nothing tawdry or shoddy in its productions, but at any rate there was just the same freshness and attractiveness about the performers, and the same brightness and completeness of detail about the stage setting, from my viewpoint as there was on Saturday night. And no one could have been more enthusiastic than either Mr. Burcher or Mr. Carey over the excellent manner in which the performance was swinging along. The artists themselves were anything but blase. One might well have believed that they had imbibed the spirit of the “High Jinks” perfume. In the “wings” they laughed and joked among themselves, radiated gaiety, and watched their colleagues “in action” with a keenness that betokened more than ordinary interest in all that was going on. Mr. Burcher treated them like a proud father, and looked the pride he felt.

“They're great,” he said, “That's as good a chorus as I've ever seen in England or America. In fact, I have no hesitation in saying that it is one of the best in the world. The girls are all pretty, and they can dance, sing, and act. In England the girls are fine looking, but they are showgirls and nothing more. They are on the stage because of their looks, and when it comes to singing and dancing, well—” and the sentence finished with an expressive shrug of the shoulders. “And where,” asked Mr. Carey as he pointed to the 12 ladies who are garbed as nurses in the first act of “High Jinks,” “could you find a better-looking lot of girls than those? Aren't they a fine advertisement for Australia?”

“Yes, they are,” replied Mr. Burcher. And I was an enthusiastic supporter.

No Time for Slackers.

Now, while we were talking of the chorus, I remembered that before the curtain rose on the first act I had heard Messrs. Burcher and Carey discussing certain changes, and what would happen to So-and-so if more “ginger” was not put into that person's work. It seemed strange to me that there were any who could be accused of slackness in such a play as “High Jinks,” and I remarked it. “Well,” said Mr. Burcher, “such cases are certainly few and far between. The greater number of our chorus people go into their work because they like it. There are some who are like greyhounds—every night is a first night, with them. But there are others who like a rest. We have no time for the latter, and when we catch them at their games out they go. It's the only way to keep the chorus strung up.” By the way, I observed a remarkable instance of the versatility of the Australian chorister. Mr. C.H. Workman had injured his foot and could not appear in his usual role of Dick Wayne, the explorer, who discovers the “High Jinks” perfume. His understudy (Mr. Wotton) who—I mention this with a great deal of pleasure—is an Adelaide boy, had to go on at short notice and take on the part. Believe me it was no easy task to play up to the fine standard which Mr. Workman has set, but Mr. Wotton did really well, and was congratulated in the heartiest manner by the producer, stage manager, and the principals.

The Presiding Genius.

The presence of Mr. Burcher with the company in Adelaide is an earnest [token] of the fact that the J.C. Williamson management is determined its productions shall be as perfect as possible. Seven years as stage manager at the London Gaiety, the most famous comic opera theatre in the world, have given Mr. Burcher a wonderful knowledge of the requirements of the theatrical public, and an experience in handling and arranging performances, especially those in which comedy reigns supreme, that must be invaluable to any firm which engages him. During his association with Mr. George Edwardes (the proprietor of the Gaiety) Mr. Burcher made 51 trips to America with various companies, and he now looks upon the voyage across the Atlantic as being nothing out of the ordinary. As a matter of fact, however, he is no friend of King Neptune's, and he informed me that he was not looking forward with any degree of pleasure to the voyage to Western Australia which he will be taking within the next few days.

Interesting Mementoes.

Mr. Burcher carries tangible mementoes of his connection with the Gaiety in the shape of handsome presents from many celebrities who from time to time visited the famous playhouse. Among those gifts he particularly treasures one from the Grand Duke Michael (Commander-in-Chief of the Russian army), and another from the late Mr. Vanderbilt, the American millionaire who was drowned when the Lusitania was torpedoed by a German submarine. A tall, slim, Englishman, Mr. Burcher looks younger than his years.  He has been connected with the stage for about 16 years, and prior to his appointment as stage manager at the Gaiety was himself in musical comedy, and was understudy to Mr. George Grossmith [Jnr.] This is his first visit to Australia, but he is likely to be with us for some time, as the Williamson firm has him under a lengthy contract.

A Genial Worker.

The revue, “Come Over Here,” was the last company with which Mr. Carey visited Adelaide, so that he has been associated with two of the biggest successes this city has seen in recent years. He complains good-humoredly that he always gets the hardest shows to look after, but the explanation of this doubtless is that “the firm” knows to whom it can safely trust those of its enterprises which call for all the ingenuity, initiative, patience, energy, and skill of that, to most of us, unfamiliar genius, the stage manager.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide, SA), Thursday, 3 June 1915, p.3, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134412448

Photos by Monte Luke

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AMUSEMENTS.

—Theatre Royal.—

“'High Jinks” will be staged for the last time at the Theatre Royal this evening. The present season has proved the most successful financially and artistically on record since the rebuilding of the Theatre. To-night should prove one of the heartiest send-offs yet experienced in Adelaide for Mr. J.C. Williamson’s company is remarkably popular … The talented performers will bid farewell this evening … The Musical Comedy Company will leave for Perth on Saturday.

The Register (Adelaide), Friday, 4 June 1915, p.3 [extracts]

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As the completion of the trans-Australian railway line lay just over 2 years away (on 17 October 1917) JCW’s New English Musical Comedy Company departed from No. 2 Quay on Saturday, 5 June aboard the S.S. Katoomba arriving at the port of Fremantle four days later with its cargo of scenery, costumes, props., etc. in preparation for a season at His Majesty’s Theatre in the Western Australian capital of Perth.

[To be continued.]

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Audio

• Love’s Own Kisses(aka ‘Is This Love at Last?’)—Dorothy Brunton

Columbia studio orchestra conducted by Charles Adams Prince (recorded in New York c.May 1918)—Cat. no.: Columbia 772 [matrix 49414]

• The Bubble—Dorothy Brunton

Columbia studio orchestra conducted by Charles Adams Prince (recorded in New York c.May 1918)—Cat. no.: Columbia 772 [matrix 49415]

(courtesy of Frank Van Straten)

• Come Hither (aka ‘She says it with her Eyes’)—W.H. Rawlins with Maisie Gay (of the 1916 London cast)

Adelphi Theatre Orchestra conducted by Howard Talbot—Cat. no.: (HMV C-721 or 04177)

(courtesy of Dominic Combe)

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Postscript

A COMEDY KING

TALKS OF A THIRTY YEARS’ CAREER

HOW W. H. RAWLINS CLIMBED THE LADDER

(By “JACQUES”)

Big, breezy, and sunny-natured. That is a description in brief of Mr. W.H. Rawlins, Baron Dauvray of “The Girl in the Taxi,” and J.J. Jeffreys of “High Jinks,” which piece we are all going to thoroughly enjoy at the Theatre Royal to-night. On the stage he has made himself the primest of favorites.  It would the same were he to forsake the limelight for the comparative retirement of ordinary citizenship. The man who could be an enemy of such a genial personality would surely pick a quarrel with a friend who offered him a fiver for nothing.

W.H. Rawlins. Photo by Monte Luke.In a cosy room at the South Australian Hotel I ran Mr. Rawlins to earth, and was soon ensconced in an easy chair in front of a cheery fire. Let me say right here that from the very outset everything was in complete harmony. Better conditions for an interview no one could imagine. A group of photographs caught my eye. In one of them—the photos, not my eye—a big man was standing in the midst of a cloud of dust, and his attitude was one of extreme travail. I bent closer to look at the scene, and Mr. Rawlins explained. “Yes,” he said, in answer to an unspoken query, “that individual is myself. No, that’s not an axe; it’s a golf club. And when that picture was taken I was endeavoring to get out of a very bad bunker. I don't appear to be making a very good job of it, do I?” Following this I was shown photos of Mr. Rawlins at golf in company with other English theatrical celebrities, and also a trophy, a handsome silver cigar case, nicely engraved, which Mr. Rawlins won in a match with our old friend of comic opera, Leslie Holland. Out talk of golf led to the relating of some funny stones, one of which is worth repeating here. On one occasion Mr. Rawlins landed at an out-of-the-way place in Wales with his clubs and a fishing rod; for he is also an ardent angler. There were two youngsters on the station, and his appearance led to the following conversation, “They be funny sticks to play ’ockey with.” “G’arn, they ain’t ’ockey sticks, stoopid.” “Well, if they ain't, wot are they?” “W’y, don'tcherknow? E’s going golfishing.” And those lads were not far wrong, for, as the actor informed me, he drove two balls in a small stream adjoining the links that day and had to fish them out again.

Dropping golf, we chatted of things theatrical, and the usual question elicited the reply that Mr. Rawlins commenced his stage career nearly 30 years ago. But even before this he had an adventure as a boy actor. His parents lived at Durham, and on one occasion during a holiday at Newcastle he gratified the ambition of his young life by securing permission to appear as a frog in a pantomime. Part of his duty was to hop across the stage from the prompt to the O.P. side, and, as the stage was in semi-darkness he distinguished his first appearance by missing his way and hopping right into the lap of an old lady who was sitting in a private box on a level with the stage. She gave a scream of fright, and he, childlike, pulled off his frog mask, jumped onto the stage again, and cleared for his life.  Next day the papers said that his was the star turn of the evening. Mr. Rawlins still laughs heartily over the recollection of that adventure.

His schooling over, Mr. Rawlins went into a stock company at Manchester, and in those days was associated with the famous Barry Sullivan. “Those companies did a lot of good,” I said.  “Yes,” was the answer; “but their methods would not be tolerated nowadays. Now a play is put into rehearsal for a good six weeks before the public gets a glimpse of it, and if a girl has found her way into a company because she has a pretty face and a pleasing voice she is taught to act before the playgoers get a glimpse of her.  In the old days what now rank as rehearsals counted as performances—and the public had to pay for them. Of course, the old stock companies made very heavy demands on one, but they soon found out if you had any versatility or ability.”

“While a member of a stock company Mr. Rawlins had an amusing experience at a place called Blackburn. They were there with G.R. Sim’s first play, “Crutch and Toothpick.” which was on the light side, and a bit above the heads of the audience. The first week’s business was of the very worst, so the manager of the hall, who was also the local butcher, and was out for gold rather than glory, told the company they would have to cut out the comedy and put on heavy drama. The company agreed, but there was nobody who could be cast as the villain. At last Mr. Rawlins was rushed into the job, though he had never previously played a heavy part, and the fun began. The audience soon dropped to the fact that temperamentally Mr. Rawlins was no villain. Mr. Rawlins knew that fact far better than anyone else in the house, and it made him so nervous that he jumbled up some of his “lines.” Early in the play he was supposed to deal rather harshly with his wife, and then to call the maid and say, “Take away my wife—I am afraid she is not well.” Instead of that he said, “Take your wife away—I am afraid I am not well.” From that moment the audience was on the qui vive for slips. They found them, and some funny ones they were, too. “I was satisfied when I got through without any more damage than was done to me by verbal bricks,” said the comedian, “it was an uncomfortable experience, but not as bad as one I had on the occasion of my wedding morning. What was it? Why, I went to the pay office to draw some cash, and the answer I got was, ‘'Just how little can you do with?’ Nice sort of wedding present for a chap, wasn’t it?”

No lightweight is W.H. Rawlins. Although he is very keen on sporting, this great bulk of laughter and contentment would probably turn the scale at somewhere about 15 st. now, and to look at him nobody would think that he was once thin enough to play the part of Gobo, the shadow, in “Les Cloches de Corneville.” Yet this was so. However, three years of that role with success and the payroll growing all the time effected a big change, and at the end of the term he was playing the part of the Baillie, which is a “fat” part in more senses of the word than one. It surely was a case of dropping the shadow for the substance.

So many operas, musical comedies, and pantomimes has Mr. Rawlins, the subject of this interview, taken part in, that his memory is stored with all sorts of reminiscences and odds and ends of poetry and music. He has had a remarkably successful stage career, and for over 20 years has been one of the recognised comedy “leads” in London and the large provincial cities of Great Britain. During the greater part of this time he was associated with the late George Edwardes, under whose management he appeared in “Les Cloches de Corneville,” “Falka,” “Pepita,” “Nanon,” “Erminie,” “La Cigale,” “Madame Favart,” “The Shop Girl,” “The Gaiety Girl,” “The Circus Girl,” “The Geisha,” “San Toy,” “The Greek Slave,” “The Messenger Boy,” “The Merry Widow,” “The Dollar Princess,” “The Girl in the Train,” “The Sunshine Girl,” “The Girl in the Film,” and “The Girl in the Taxi.” He has also played in 33 pantomimes. Twice he visited America, once with “The Gaiety Girl” and once with “The Shop Girl,” and has the pleasantest recollections of each tour. His favorite part he believes to be Uncle Matt, in “La Cigale.” Perhaps the fact that he made his first big success in this role may have something to do with his liking for it. “I followed Lionel Brough as Uncle Matt,” he told me, "and after that never looked backwards.” Other roles for which he has a particular fancy are Nish in “The Merry Widow,” and Bolger, in “The Dollar Princess,” but he is very much attached to the parts he is now playing in “The Girl in the Taxi” and “High Jinks.” “They give one such splendid opportunities,” he says. I have told you that in his early days Mr. Rawlins played with Barry Sullivan, and I may add that one of his earliest recollections with the famous Barry was in the part of one of the princes in “Richard III,” He has also fond memories of another delightful public favorite, now, alas, gone to his long rest, and this time another great comedian—Johnnie Toole—with whom he was associated at the Theatre Royal, Newcastle-on-Tyne.

Tragedian, Barry Sullivan, 1852. Photographer unknown.

National Library of Australia, Canberra

Comedian, John Lawrence Toole. Photo by W. & D. Downey. Published 1892.

National Portrait Gallery, London

“You should have seen me out this way some time before I actually arrived,” said Mr. Rawlins, when I asked him how it was he came to visit Australia. “I always wanted to visit the great Commonwealth, and had signed a contract to come and take a part in ‘Gipsy Love.’ However, other arrangements were made, and it was ultimately decided that I should come to Australia with ‘The Girl in the Taxi.’ Like the place? Yes, I do. I have been in Australia over 12 months now, and have just signed a new contract to stay another six months. It meant putting off a panto engagement in London, but I'm having such a fine time out here that I don't mind how long I stay.”

“At any rate,” I said, “you have made your audiences love you like a brother.”

“Have I? Well, I'm glad. And in return for that let me say that Australian audiences are simply great. As a matter of fact, they are really too good, for they make such a fuss over you that you are likely to overdo things a bit if you are not careful. Australian artists? Well, what more can I do than point to Miss Dorothy Brunton? She has everything—appearance, charm, a good voice, and any amount of ability. If she were in London she would be the success of the season.  And if she ever does go to London they won't be in a hurry to let her leave.”

Mr. Rawlins was due at rehearsal at noon, so the interview came to an end here. I shook hands and said good-bye, having spent a most pleasant time with one who could be nothing else than the best of friends and the most interesting acquaintances.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Saturday, 29 May 1915, p.3, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134411638

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MUSICAL COMEDY ARTISTS

ARRIVAL OF MR. AND MISS YATES

WAR INCIDENTS IN FRANCE.

Two musical comedy artists, Mr. Sidney Yates, and his sister, Miss Daisy Yates, were passengers by the Blue Funnel liner Aeneas, which arrived at the Outer Harbor on Friday. They have come to Australia under engagement to J.C. Williamson, arrangements having been made for Miss Yates to appear in “The Girl in the Taxi,” which will be staged for the first time in Adelaide at the Theatre Royal next Saturday night. Mr. Yates [has] played in Australia, … having appeared at the New Tivoli Theatre in Adelaide when it was opened about two years ago. Miss Yates was … with Mr. George Edwardes’ company, and played the part of Mary, the Yorkshire girl in “Our Miss Gibbs” with Mr. Chris. Wren, who acted as Timothy Gibbs. During the voyage of the Aeneas the two artist made themselves very popular with all the passengers. They gave entertainments which were so appreciated that the captain, on behalf of those on board, presented Mr. Yates with a sovereign purse and Miss Yates with a gold wristlet watch.

Although Miss Yates will appear in “The Girl in the Taxi,” her brother has not yet received instructions as to what he is to do or where he is to appear. Since he left Australia Mr. Yates has been appearing in London and France, and was in Paris at the time war was declared. “Had it not been for the war,” he said, “we would not have been here. We were producing a revised version of ‘The Quaker Girl’ in one of the principal theatres of Paris, and having had the final rehearsal everything was ready for the opening night when a uniformed official read out a declaration ordering all men to immediately join their regiments. All our musicians, stage hands, and artists simply had to throw down their tools and join the colors, leaving myself and the women there. Of course the theatre, like others in Paris, had to be closed down, and our agreements were broken.

“Ten days after war was declared we tried to get out of Paris back to England, but as martial law had been proclaimed we found the task exceedingly difficult. The trains were being used to take troops to the fighting line, and it took us three days to get our tickets. About 4000 people were trying to get across to England. The train journey from Paris to Dieppe usually occupies seven hours, but it took us over two days to get there, the delays having been occasioned through having to shunt on to sidings until troop trains went by. We got to Dieppe about half-past one in the morning, but as every hotel and house was packed we could not obtain accommodation, and had the extraordinary experience of sleeping out on the sands all night. We were doubtful about getting a boat next day, but fortunately one came along, and we were taken across the channel to Newhaven. There we experienced further trouble in trying to change French money.”

Mr. Yates witnessed many exciting incidents in Paris when war was declared. Big German shops and business houses were gutted and ransacked, and there were processions by people of the allies through the streets both by night and day. The newspaper offices were bringing out special editions almost every hour, and when their paper stock became depleted they published extraordinary editions on plain paper bags. There was intense excitement and jubilation in Paris when the news came through that Great Britain was entering the war on the side of France.

When Mr. and Miss Yates got back to England they were rehearsing musical comedy for the music halls. After Christmas they went to South Africa, where they appeared in the principal cities, their season there having been extended from six to 16 weeks. It was while in South Africa that they were engaged by J.C. Williamson, Limited, to come to Australia.

The Daily Herald (Adelaide), Monday, 17 May 1915, p.3, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article134409321

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Since Daisy and Sydney Yates (aka Ellen Maingay Daniels and Sydney Culverhouse) were unrelated*, the Lincolnshire vicarage mentioned in the following article presumably alluded to Ellen’s family background.

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VICARAGE TO STAGE.

CLEVER DANCERS’ CAREERS.

From a quiet Lincolnshire vicarage to the world's leading stages is a far cry, but that sums up the meteoric careers of Miss Daisy and Mr. Yates, whose dancing in “The Girl in the Taxi” at the Theatre Royal has practically held up the houses since [Saturday] last. They reached Adelaide … after a successful tour in Africa, and the large audiences who have seen them here have clamoured for more on every occasion.

“The war is the reason why we are together,” remarked Mr. Yates to a “Mail” reporter. “When the clarion was first sounded we were both in Paris, in opposition establishments. We worked up a turn and intended to do the provinces in England, but it was so attractive that we were at the Coliseum for six weeks, after which we were sent to Africa. In Paris I was a ballet master and producer in four of the leading theatres. I have also done a lot of work for Pathe Freres, but dancing has always attracted me. I brought out a troupe of dancers at the opening of the new Tivoli Theatre.

“Our turn in ‘High Jinks’ ” interposed Miss Yates, “is one of our own specialities. It is a whirlwind dance called the ‘grande vitesse,’ and will give a lot of pleasure. My part in that musical jollity is Mlle. Chi Chi, a dancer, who is one of the chief characters concerned in the humorous muddle so cleverly worked out by the author.

“My first appearance,” she continued, “was at one of the leading provincial theatres in England when I was in ‘Florodora’. I was the first principal boy to appear in a two house a night pantomime.  Subsequently I made five tours as Mary in ‘Our Miss Gibbs.’ After having been in ‘The Arcadians’ and a Hippodrome revue I went to Paris, where I had a most enjoyable and successful time.

“This is my first visit to Australia. How glad I am in the circumstances to be away from London with its dark streets. The theatres have no lights at all outside, and it has a most depressing effect on stepping into the street to almost grope one's way through the gloom. This trip is the outcome of the third offer I have had to visit the great Commonwealth, and I am delighted to be here. The Adelaide public has treated us very nicely.”

Miss Yates mentioned that during the trip from America she and her brother entertained the people on the boat with songs and dances. Their appreciation was so great that Lady McMillan, on behalf of her fellow passengers, presented Miss Yates with a watch and her brother with a sovereign purse.

Every morning is spent by the pair practising, and the young danseuse has a busy time in the afternoons, as she is engaged in studying several parts which she will assume in Melbourne.

The Mail (Adelaide, SA), Saturday, 29 May 1915, p.4, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article59299021

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* Daisy’s true identity was revealed in 1916, when she was granted a divorce from her husband (actor and theatrical manager) Thomas Henry Daniels, whom she had married in March 1906, on the grounds of his desertion of both her and their child for another woman (ref.: The Herald (Melbourne), Wednesday, 20 September 1916, p.1, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article242377620 ). In 1920 a Supreme Court writ was issued on behalf of Ellen (Daisy), who claimed £2,000 in damages against Sydney Charles Culverhouse (her erstwhile putative ‘brother’ and stage dance partner) in a suit for alleged breach of promise, for which she was subsequently awarded £500 (ref.: The Herald (Melbourne), Friday, 1 May 1920, p.1, https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/245598502 & Saturday, 2 May 1920, https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/245605417 )

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COMEDIAN’S COMMENTS.

WHEN SCREAMS COME.

AUSTRALIAN CHORUS GIRLS PRAISED.

“I hate humorous parts,” exclaimed Mr. Field Fisher, who as Alexis, the head waiter in ‘The Girl in the Taxi,’ and Dr. Thorne in ‘High Jinks,’ made everybody in the Theatre Royal laugh with great gusto. “I would like to be the leading tenor, the hero,” he told a 'Mail' reporter. “After all, low comedy is my favourite line,” he continued. “There is so much licence allowed. Gags may be introduced, and that is much appreciated by some of the business firms. A well-known importer of whisky used to send me a box, but the trouble was everybody in the company would hear of it.

“Audiences certainly do vary very much. The Australian practice of giving an artist applause on his appearance on the stage each night is most encouraging, and shows the fine spirit of the people. Humour has to be good, and nothing that is too risque or broad is wanted in Australia. A local touch always goes down in the Commonwealth. A line that will bring a scream in Adelaide invariably does so in Sydney, or vice versa. It is therefore easier to play in this country than, for example, in England.  A reference that appeals to the risible faculties of the people in Manchester might be absolutely flat in Liverpool. Where the scream will come can never be relied on over there, and that makes the work of a comedian harder…

“It is just 30 years ago since I started with Sir Henry Irving in ‘Charles I.’ In ‘The Prince and the Pauper’ I took the part of the Prince, and afterwards under Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree I was Prince Arthur in ‘King John.’ Everything was arranged that I should go to America with Lawrence Irving, who died in the wreck of the Empress of Ireland. On the Sunday prior to his departure I had dinner with him in order to talk matters over. Then this scheme to visit to Australia came, and I resolved to take advantage of it. The result is I was not in the ill-fated vessel. He could have been saved himself had he not gone back for his wife.  It was just like him. His genius was only just being realised in England.

“My first pantomime was at Covent Garden in ‘Cinderella,’ where I assumed one of the leading parts, although l was only 18 years of age. Since then I have been either the baron or page—two important characters—in pantomime nearly every year except this one...

“The Australian chorus girls are remarkably versatile. They dance, sing, and act. In England they either do one thing or the other. At home they wander from one company to another, but here they grow up with a firm. They know there is not another to go to, and that probably spurs them on. lt is truly wonderful what the Australian can accomplish, and several instances might be cited where local actresses have been able to take leading parts with success, although they are given only 24 hours’ notice.”

The Mail (Adelaide), Saturday, 29 May 1915, p.5 [extracts], http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article59299108

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